


When We Find Love

by angelichl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boat Sex, Boys In Love, Cowboy Hats, Exhibitionism, Famous Harry, Fishing, Fluff and Angst, Ice Cream, Lake-town, M/M, Miscommunication, New York, Non-Famous Louis, Pet Names, Running, Small Towns, Smut, Songwriting, Stargazing, Summer Love, Swimming, jet skis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelichl/pseuds/angelichl
Summary: “I have a boat,” Louis reasons, turning around to match Harry’s gaze. He looks gorgeous like this, standing on the edge of the wooden dock, the nighttime breeze gently ruffling his hair, eyes dark beneath the sky full of stars. “Is that okay?”“You mean like… You want to-“ He gestures between them with a quick flutter of his hands, “-with me, on your boat?”Louis nods, trying not to let a crazy grin overtake his face. “Only if you want to.”Or, the famous/not-famous AU in which Louis lives in a house by the lake and doesn't know Harry is famous.





	When We Find Love

**Author's Note:**

> The amount of writer's block I experienced while trying to crank this one out is insane. I finished it though, so that's what matters.
> 
> I am so grateful for [Lexi](https://fiction-flower.tumblr.com/) and [Allie](https://sweetestlou.tumblr.com/), both of whom helped me immensely while writing this. Thank you so much for being so supportive even as I procrastinated until the very last minute and ended up writing half the story three days before the deadline. Any mistakes in this fic are mine and not theirs.
> 
> This is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. I don't own anything. Don't break the barrier of trust by showing this to anyone mentioned.
> 
> Minor warning for mentions of drowning - no one gets hurt, but it's mentioned. If you have any questions please contact me.
> 
> The prompt is from the Blue Mood Board.

.

 

 

::

AND WHEN WE FIND LOVE, NO MATTER HOW WRONG,

HOW SAD OR HOW TERRIBLE WE CLING TO IT.

IT GIVES US STRENGTH, IT HOLDS US UP RIGHT.

IT FEEDS ON US, AND WE FEED ON IT.

::

  
  
  


 

 

**Friday, June 16** **th** **, 2017 – [86 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

He’s wearing bright pink running shorts the day Louis first sees him.

 

Ridiculously neon. And short. Absurdly short, as in, there’s no way he didn’t buy them from the women’s section of a running store. The shorts ride up his legs, exposing the skin of his thighs—pale, though it’s already midway through June and the typical person would be decently tanned by now.

 

That’s the first indicator he isn’t from here.

 

Louis keeps running up the massive hill, cursing the winding road and the expansive countryside for having so many changes in altitude. He loves to run and has always loved it, but sometimes he just isn’t so in tune with the hills. Sometimes they hurt.

 

Sometimes, like now. It’s Friday evening in the middle of June, and he’s on the sixth mile of his run. With his schedule, working at the marina on week days and then _Boxcar Barney’s_ on the weekends, he prefers to run in the evening. Despite the stifling heat of a New York summer, there’s something beautiful about running just before sunset, as the crickets come out and begin to sing their chirping songs and the mosquitoes begin to hover by light bulbs pretending to be the sun. Something calming about it.

 

See, the thing is, he’s trucking up this massive hill, and to get himself up it he has to keep reminding himself he’ll take a thirty second break to admire the view and catch his breath. He knows what he’ll see at the top—the wide expanse of land stretched out before him, country roads and farmland hills. Fields of corn and soy plants, a red faded red tractor abandoned by a bale of hay. A house or two dotting the scenery, and not much else but the lengths of asphalt disappearing from view like veins of the earth. The sky wrapping around it all like a far away blanket of petal pink and pale mauve.

 

The point is that he’s six miles into his daily run and there’s so much sweat covering his body, he may as well have jumped into the lake. In fact he wishes he were swimming in the lake right now, because this early in summer the water is pleasantly cool after being warmed up by the sun all day. The point is that he’s certain his cheeks are bright red with exhaustion, his breathing uneven from fatigue, and as he gets closer and closer to the zenith of the massive fucking hill, he sees someone—a stranger.

 

The point is that this stranger is very cute. Very pretty. Gorgeous, even.

 

_Fuck._ Why can’t Louis be the one running down the hill instead of up? At least then he would have a chance to pull himself together and not look like he’s never exercised a day in his life. That’s the thing about running—he’s been doing it for half a decade but sometimes he still feels like an amateur.

 

Attempting to school his breathing into a normal easy rhythm is a lost cause. Realizing this, and accepting it, he keeps pushing up the hill, using short steps and swinging his arms for momentum just like he was taught during his three years on the high school cross country team. If he can’t look good for the cute stranger, he’ll at least look like a badass for killing it up this goddamn mountain of a hill.

 

As Louis approaches the stranger who’s running in his direction, he tries not to stare. It’s difficult, because his running form is so elegant. Despite the fact that he’s presumably in the middle of a workout, his appearance is breathtaking. Cheeks tinged with a pretty pink blush, eyes set forward, lips parted slightly as he regulates his breathing. He’s in these neon pink short shorts and a loose gray tank top with a white _Nike_ insignia above his heart. His hair is dark brown, damp with sweat, and slightly curly, but pulled back by a thin teal headband. Louis quickly glances at him, following the long line of his legs as he strides down the hill. There are black knee-high socks covering his shins _. He must have shin-splints_.

 

They get a little closer, both running in opposing directions on the same road, Louis running up and the stranger running down.

 

“Hello!” Louis chirps cheerily, more than breathless, when he gets close enough to greet the man. He always says hello to other runners, hikers, and bikes, and this stranger, beautiful he may be, is no exception. The endorphins running through Louis’ veins do wonders to increase his confidence.

 

Not that he lacks the normal amount of confidence, because he doesn’t. Louis doesn’t get intimidated easily, not even by pretty boys who look like they can qualify for the Boston Marathon. Running just makes it a lot easier to do things without overthinking, because his mind is so preoccupied by motivating him up the goddamn hill.

 

“Good morning!” The beautiful man replies with equal enthusiasm, voice breathless as well, and deep too. A nice sound that goes well with the subtle thud of the soles of his lime green _Brooks_ on the road.

 

_Morning?_ Louis thinks, and then barks out a laugh, almost to the top of the hill, the sunset so close he thinks he might be able to reach out and touch it with his fingers.

 

The man slaps a hand over his mouth just as he passes, obviously realizing his mistake. It’s nearly six o’clock in the evening. Louis can’t help but laugh even through his exhaustion.

 

“Shit, sorry—good _evening_ , I meant!” He calls out, already halfway down the hill.

 

Louis is still laughing by the time he gets to the top of the monstrous hill and looks out at the land spread below him. From here, he can see the farmlands that surround him, all rolling hills and summer green grass and verdant forests with just a hint of the trickling stream visible through the leaves. Swarms of mosquitoes cloud the air but they prefer to hang around the edge of the woods so they aren’t bothering Louis at the moment. Farther away is the lake, glistening in the setting sun.

 

Louis stands with his hands on his hips, taking it all in, his breathing labored. Six miles of running will do that to him. Unfortunately he’s only halfway there, with six more miles to go.

 

With a sigh, and one last three hundred sixty degree spin, admiring the beauty of rural New York, he turns around and lets his legs carry him down the hill. After the burning ache of his muscles struggling to heave him up it, it feels heavenly to just like gravity do the work.

 

Down the road, he can see the figure of the cute boy running. Tall and lean, with his neon shorts nearly glowing in the fading light. Louis admires his form as he himself runs down the hill, watching the way his feet strike the country road so evenly, his arms at the perfect angle, back straight and tall with nearly perfect posture…

 

At the main road up ahead, the man turns left. When Louis gets there himself he turns right and begins heading back home.

 

All the while, there’s this indescribable warmth just barely there in the pit of his stomach. This warmth he can’t explain, just knows that it’s there. It’s a nice feeling.

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

“Liaaaaaam,” Louis moans, the minute he steps in the door of their shared house. It’s a beautiful abode, right on the lake, surrounded by a nice amount of land. All green grass with a small patch of trees near the edge, blocking other property from view. Then a bit of dirt-mixed sand, and finally the lakefront with a wooden dock Louis and Liam have to set up by themselves every spring. “Liaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-“

 

“What’re you on about, Tommo?”

 

Louis leans against the doorway, sighing wistfully. “I just saw the most beautiful person on earth.” The sun is close to setting now, bathing everything in orange-red light. The lake breeze drifts in through the open door where Louis leans, cooling him off as it brushes against his sweaty skin. He watches Liam with wide, innocent eyes, playing up the dramatics.

 

“Oh, did you now?” Liam is definitely placating him by playing along.

 

Louis doesn’t care. He’s happy from his twelve-mile run and exhausted from it too. “We’re gonna get married,” He nods solemnly, like it’s already set in stone. Pretending he has the wedding invitations ready and everything.

 

“I see.”

 

“I’m in love with him, Liam.”

 

“And when do I get to meet his bloke?”

 

“I don’t know exactly.” Louis pretends to think about it. “ _I_ have to meet him first.”

 

Liam looks up, meeting Louis’ eyes and laughing warmly. “Right, that would be a good idea,” He agrees, beckoning him forward. Louis complies, closing the door behind him and stepping inside to the living room where Liam is lounging on the couch, eating a cup of strawberry Greek yogurt and watching NBC on TV. Just to be annoying he swoops down to give his best friend a big, sweaty hug, but Liam wraps him in his arms like he doesn’t even notice Louis is dripping enough sweat to fill a modest-sized swimming pool.

 

Louis really loves Liam.

 

“You’re insane,” Liam laughs, breath tickling his hair. Louis sits down on his lap just to be a nuisance, and again Liam doesn’t take the bait and instead just hugs him tighter.

 

“So are you.”

 

“Yeah, maybe, but I don’t pretend to be getting married to random strangers I see while I’m going for a run.”

 

“That’s because you don’t go running.” It’s true—Liam is very athletic but he prefers to lift weights and do crossfit at the gym across the lake in Mayville.

 

“No, that’s because I’m not crazy, and I don’t fall in love with every random stranger I see.”

 

“He was tall. And _cute_ . Perfect running form. _And_ he said good morning to me, Liam. _Good morning_ ,” He says, like it means anything special. Thinking about the attractive stranger making a mistake and greeting Louis good morning instead of a more pretentious-sounding ‘good evening’ or even just a simple ‘hi’ makes Louis laugh to himself.

 

“Well you’ll just have to track him down, then.”

 

“You know I will.”

 

“I do, that’s why I said that. Don’t scare him away though. He must be new here.”

 

Louis pointedly ignores Liam’s insinuation that he may scare cute possible boyfriends away. “Definitely new here. Never seen him before in my life. But he felt familiar. Like we’re made for each other.”

 

He may be joking, but he really isn’t lying. The man _did_ feel familiar, like Louis knew him from a distant memory. The romantic part of Louis whispers, _maybe you knew each other in a past life. Maybe you were in love._

 

“Think he’s here for the summer?”

 

“Maybe,” Louis sighs, faux-wistful again, because it’s fun to pretend he’s in love even when he really isn’t. It makes Liam laugh, and it’s better than Louis being his sarcastic, acerbic self.

 

After he showers, they spend the rest of the evening watching the local news with the windows open, welcoming in sounds of the waves lapping languidly against the shore, and the cicadas humming their constant tune. The cool lake breeze drifts in through the screens, carrying with it the faint scent of sand and earth and seaweed.

 

Just before bed Louis steps outside on the porch to smoke, but he ends up walking down the grassy hill until he reaches the shore. Lake Chautauqua is not a sand lake; rather, it’s just mud and rock. Where the line of grass ends, a small strip of muck and mud begins, followed by the waves which carry seaweed and twigs to shore. The smell isn’t the most pleasant—at least at first, especially, when Louis can see an upturned largemouth bass a few yards down the beach—but after years of spending his summers here, he’s quite used to the earthy fragrance now. It assaults his olfactory receptors less and less the more time he spends at the shore, tending to boats or fishing on the docks.

 

He kicks his shoes off and wades into the water barefoot, toes sinking into the muck. Again, the first time he felt this sensation wasn’t the most pleasant, but now he’s come to love it. Once he gets far enough away from shore, the mosquitoes don’t bother him. As soon as the waves lulling in the water wet the hem of his shorts, he stops walking out and just enjoys the feeling, the moment. When he looks up, craning his neck back at a slightly uncomfortable angle, the black sky spans out above him, far away and full of small pinpricks of light.

 

Lacking much knowledge of the night sky, he feels proud of himself for picking out the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, and the Summer Triangle. Orion’s Belt is basically a gimmick and probably the easiest constellation to locate. He searches a while for the small cluster of seven dim stars—the Seven Sisters—but eventually gives up when he can’t find them, and heads back up the grassy slope to his house.

 

The warm feeling that glows in his stomach doesn’t ebb nor wane.

 

 

 

 

 

**Saturday, June 17th, 2017 – [85 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

They’re at Guppy’s when he sees him the second time. In hindsight, this day is life-changing. In the moment, it feels so comfortingly _normal_ , he doesn’t think much of it.

 

When Louis gets home from work, smelling terribly of ice cream and corn dogs, and hops into the shower to wash away the day’s sweat and other grime, he isn’t at all aware that in a way this unassuming Saturday will serve as a turning point in his life. In fact, if pestered at the given moment, he would say it felt like just a normal Saturday. He just dries off with a towel and runs around the house naked and then in various degrees of dress as he gets ready, just to piss off Liam.

 

By seven o’clock he’s wearing a worn pair of vans, his favorite pair of black jeans, and a slightly-sheer black tank top. His hair styled, and skin glowing from a day of being outside near the lake. Liam is much of the same, with black jeans and a t-shirt. Typical summer evening attire. They head out to the car, Liam driving, with plans to meet up with Zayn at the restaurant.

 

On the way there, they have the windows rolled down and the radio blaring. Wind rushes in, leaving him breathless as he sings along to the current song, lips curved up into an easygoing, relaxed smile. They have the entire night ahead of him and Louis just knows it’ll be a good one. Some of the best nights of his life happened during his summers spent on Lake Chautauqua.

 

Liam has to do a lot of maneuvering in the small parking lot, crowded as always, but he manages it quite skillfully so Louis decides to compliment him by applauding in appreciation. The minute the car is in park, Louis throws himself out and across the parking lot, into the restaurant. He feels light with the airy weight of a summer that feels so blissfully endless. He’s knows it isn’t infinite, of course; that’s just what it feels like. And damn if it isn’t a good feeling.

 

Guppy’s is a cozy little tavern far enough away from the lake that the trees cover any view of the water. It’s one of the only restaurants in the near vicinity of the lake, so it’s definitely one of the busiest places every night. A meeting place of sorts, that bustles and thrives with the summery energy of the locals. They get a fair amount of tourists, too, but usually the wait for a table is so long that vacationing families decide to suffer the thirty minute drive and dine somewhere else in a neighboring county. They don’t know what they’re missing.

 

Inside, he’s immediately greeted by the sight of the crowded bar, every stool occupied and lined with a double layer of patrons, some couples even sharing a seat. There’s only one barmaid, and she’s hustling to get everybody’s drinks out quickly, her blonde ponytail swishing behind her as she runs to and fro. There’s a wide smile on her face, though, as she chats amiably whenever she gets the chance.

 

The walls are tacked with hundreds of knickknacks and signs, sailing flags and snowshoes alike. There’s even the taxidermy head of a buck right above the door, beside the neon Budweiser sign. It’s sad, in a way, but beautiful too. Hunting is a big part of the culture in this neck of the woods, and so is fishing. So the fishing poles, hand-painted ceramic muskellunge, and framed photographs of men, women, and children proudly holding their captured largemouth basses aren’t out of place. The snowshoes, broken parts of old snowmobiles, and skis are representative of the winters here. The sailing flags hang high on the ceiling, just as accepted.

 

Louis patiently waits in line for a moment, before the hostess gets to him and asks if he’d like to be seated inside or outside, and at the bar or at a table. He places a reservation for a table in exactly an hour, and then he and Liam head to the outside bar.

 

The fresh air is a bit of a relief after the crowded inside of the restaurant. The summer breeze is pleasant on the bare skin of his arms as they head over to the pavilion-like patio. When Louis sees a brief opening at the bar he takes it, sliding in and leaning up against the countertop to order three beers, since he knows Zayn will be here soon.

 

As he waits, he taps his fingers on the bar top to the rhythm of a song stuck in his head, sighing peacefully. Through the boisterous and constant chatter of the crowded patrons, there’s the very distinct sound of a squawking laugh behind Louis, and it makes him smile a little, because the person sounds very pleased and amused. He turns around to see what’s so funny.

 

Granted, he isn’t expecting what he sees.

 

It’s the man from yesterday. The one with the neon shorts and the _good morning_. He’s sitting on the bar stool, feet perched on the rung though his legs are too long and his knees come up a little above his waist. Laughing wildly, eyes crinkling. He looks gorgeous.

 

There’s a moment where Louis realizes just how close they are, and with the man laughing so joyously it takes everything within him not to melt on the spot. The cute guy is on the stool and Louis is right beside him, pressed up against him as he leans against the countertop waiting for his drink. _Shit_.

 

A moment after Louis recognizes him, Louis is recognized in return. “Oh!” The man says, surprised, eyes still twinkling with laughter-induced tears leftover from the previous conversation.

 

Louis turns his body to face him best he can with the limited space. Their arms are touching, skin on skin, and it makes Louis burn. “Good morning,” He teases, unable to resist the lighthearted jest.

 

The man throws his palm over his face and lets out a muffled groans, “Oh _god_.” When he finally pulls his hands away, Louis observes his cheeks tinged pink just like yesterday, although today it probably isn’t from exertion. Maybe he’s just sunburn, Louis reasons, thinking of the man’s pale thighs from yesterday, the way his skin glowed underneath the pending sunset. Maybe he burns easily.

 

“Hi. Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

 

He covers his face in his hands again, groaning some more in seeming embarrassment.

 

The person he’s here with looks between him and Louis, amused. Yet there’s something cautious about his expression, like he’s waiting for Louis to do something wrong. It’s a weird feeling to shake, so he ignores it.

 

“Harry, care to tell me what’s going on?”

 

The cute man, _Harry_ , ignores him, turning fully to Louis now, looking ready to explain himself even though Louis really doesn’t need an explanation. Clearly he’s a bit embarrassed, and well, Louis is quite endeared at that. “Sorry, when I work out my brain stops working apparently. I usually run in the mornings so at this point it’s just habit.”

 

Louis wants to tease him a bit more, just on the edge of mocking, but honestly? His brain is turned to jelly at the sight of this man’s wide green eyes, and he can’t think of a suitable comeback. So maybe he kind of understands what Harry’s saying about his brain refusing to work.

 

He bites his lip, trying not to get lost in those green eyes. It’s a bit of a task, even though the thought of it is quite cliché. They really _are_ green, Louis reasons in his mind. Eventually, he has the wherewithal to ask, “Is that why I haven’t seen you around, then?”

 

Harry looks a bit confused for a small second. Like he’s waiting for Louis to do something.

 

He looks a bit paranoid, too, as his eyes quickly sweep over the outdoor bar area. Louis follows his gaze, catching eyes with a few girls who are sat at a table near the bar, all their attention simultaneously on Louis. It’s a strange feeling, being watched. One he hasn’t ever really experienced before. He doesn’t know why it’s happening now, but the arm of a very pretty man is brushing against his own, so he really doesn’t have the mind to care right now. All of this happens within a very short moment.

 

“Ehm, I guess. I’ve only been here for a few days.”

 

“Oh, cool. I knew I didn’t recognize you. So are you staying for the summer?”

 

His brows furrow in seeming confusion, which make Louis confused too. But he doesn’t know this Harry guy enough to read the various expressions that flit across his face within a millisecond. That’s a lot of emotions, Louis thinks, as he finally settles back on the easygoing smile.

 

“Yeah, I’m here ‘till beginning of autumn.”

 

“It’s a lovely place for vacation. I approve of your choice,” Louis laughs, hoping he assumed right when he said Harry’s here for vacation. “Name’s Louis, by the way.”

 

Harry meets his gaze, eyes imploring. The confusion is still there—the uncertainty. It makes Louis ache in a way he can’t explain. Why is he looking at him like that?

 

“Harry,” He answers finally, holding out a hand to shake. Louis takes it with gusto, secretly pleased at the way his hand is encompassed by Harry’s. The softness of his skin is pleasant too.

 

“Nice to meet you. So where’re you staying?”

 

He quickly glances back at his friend, making eye contact. When he turns back to Louis he briefly looks like a panicked animal, before answering his question. “Ehmm, a condo. On the lake?” He says it like a question.

 

Louis smiles, trying to ease the apparent tension. He has no idea what the fuck is going on, but this Harry guy is cute and he wants to see him smile again. “This side of the lake? Or Mayville?”

 

“This side,” He says quietly. Louis vaguely wonders if he’s afraid to tell Louis, a mere stranger, where he lives. It’s partly smart and partly paranoid. Louis doesn’t understand, but he isn’t judging.

 

“Oh cool, me too.” He wants to ask more, to find out if they’re maybe neighbors for the summer or something, but then he remembers Harry yesterday turning left when Louis turned right, and he figures they probably aren’t. Oh well. From the corner of his eye he sees Liam and Zayn approaching the bar for their drinks. Louis figures he doesn’t have much more time to talk to this fine specimen of a man, so he drops the topic and instead chooses to say, “Hey, well, I work at the marina so if you’re ever bored and looking for something to do, I can probably hook you up with a free Jet Ski rental or something. Maybe some paddle-boarding lessons if you’re particularly desperate.”

 

The smile returns, eyes crinkling at the corners. And Christ, his dimple pops out. _Jesus_. Louis is already done for.

 

“That would be awesome, actually. Niall and I are always looking for something to do,” Says Harry, voice honey-sweet and just as slow. Deep, too, of course. _He would make a good singer_ , Louis thinks idly. _He has the look and everything._

 

“Niall?”

 

His thumb juts out, pointing behind him, where the guy with a charming smile and polka dot socks peeking out from the cuffs of his jeans is flirting with the barmaid. “M’ friend.”

 

Louis relaxes a little, smile widening. “Like I said, you’re welcome to come hang out for a while. I take it you’re not accustomed to our daily hobbies here? Boating, fishing, all that?”

 

“Definitely not.”

 

“City boy?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

_Way to be vague._ “Well, you’re always welcome. Come on a weekday, nine to three, I’ll be there.”

 

“Short hours.”

 

“I’m at Barney’s the rest of the time.”

 

“Barney’s?”

 

“The ice cream place in the park. In Mayville?”

 

Harry raises his eyebrows. Louis is already so entranced by his very expressive face, he thinks he could watch him for hours. Maybe see what other expressions he could coax out of him. Yeah, not a smart mental road to travel down. He pushes the thought away with force, rocking back and forth slightly on his heels.

 

“Never heard of it..?”

 

Louis barely contains a gasp. “Now that’s sacrilegious.”

 

“I feel like saying that is sacrilegious in itself.”

 

“Maybe,” Louis concedes, waving his hand through the air. The chatter around them fades to the background and he feels like he’s wrapped up in this precious little bubble with this very gorgeous guy. “Whatever, don’t distract me. We need to get you to Barney’s immediately.”

 

His eyebrows raise, teasing. “Do we?”

 

“We do. It’s open until eleven during the summer.”

 

“And you’re not working?”

 

“Rare day off. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

 

“I see.”

 

Louis takes a swig of his neglected beer for courage. It helps, even if it is all mental. A placebo of sorts. Taking a leap, he pats Harry on the shoulder jokingly and says, “When you’re ready to get out of here, come find me if you want to try the best ice cream in the world.”

 

It’s not a proposition even though it kind of sounds like it is. Louis literally means he wants to take this Harry guy to _Barney’s_ for ice cream.

 

Harry takes it well, laughing just like Louis had hoped. He looks hopeful too, in a way. Green eyes bright, lips pursed in a teasing smirk. “Best in the world?”

 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

 

“I do like ice cream.”

 

“Good. Find me later.” Then he gathers the three beer bottles in his hands, eyeing where Liam and Zayn have moved across the patio, and makes his exit.

 

When he glances back on a whim, he catches Harry staring after him. More specifically, staring at his ass.

 

Surprisingly enough, it’s a good feeling.

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

They do, in fact, end up going to _Barney’s_.

 

There’s little resistance from their friends. Louis can only guess what Liam and Zayn will be up to. Actually, he shudders to think about it, and hopes they make it to the bedroom. He doesn’t want to have to avoid the couch for the foreseeable future. Or the kitchen countertop… _Oh god_. Liam and Zayn aren’t exactly in a relationship, but they might as well be. Louis isn’t stupid enough to think they aren’t fucking.

 

Niall lets them go with slight ribbing, rolling his eyes at his friend and shooing the two of them away. (“You leaving me to fend for myself, Harold?” “I think you’ll be okay.” “Fake friends…”) Though Louis does notice the wary glance he sends Harry’s way, like he’s nervous for him. It’s unsettling but something Louis nearly immediately forgets upon looking back towards Harry and becoming overwhelmed by his beautiful face. So what if his friends are just a bit overprotective of him? There’s nothing wrong with that, Louis reasons.

 

That’s how Louis ends up in the passenger’s seat of Harry’s range rover, making himself at home by fiddling with the radio and the windows until he has everything just how he likes it. He hopes Harry doesn’t mind. But for the way the wind rushes in and mixes with the sound of the music on the radio, he thinks it’s worth it.

 

Louis is in the middle of telling Harry to turn left on Lakeview Avenue when Harry’s hand quickly juts out and changes the radio station, lightning fast.

 

“What?” Louis asks, a bit bewildered. “Do you not like that song? I didn’t even hear what it was.”

 

Harry’s eyes are wide and he’s gnawing on his lip. When he says, “Sorry, just don’t like it,” Louis wonders if he’s lying.

 

“O-kay…”

 

All awkward confusion is forgotten the second the next song starts and Louis is unabashedly singing, albeit a bit obnoxiously just to make Harry laugh again. The tension is gone in a flash, and Louis immediately forgets about it. Everything after that is smooth sailing.

 

The line at Barney’s almost reaches the road, when they get there. Harry parks in the grass because the parking lot is full, and they walk together on the loose stones to the end of the line where they wait. Louis is the one who starts a conversation, determined not to let this kind-of-not-really-a-date flop because the conversation is boring. He starts by asking Harry a bit about himself, but finds that Harry is a bit hesitant to share information about himself. It should probably worry Louis, that this man seems a bit closed-off, but he pushes forth and tells himself maybe he’s just shy.

 

Once they get off the topic of Harry, the conversation flows much easier, and Louis finds that Harry really isn’t shy. Not when they start talking about music and the best bands from the seventies. He becomes very animated, gesticulating with his hands and rattling off a monologue until Louis concedes and agrees with him, endeared to see him so passionate about something.

 

So he likes music, then. That’s good, music is a good thing to like.

 

They wait in line for nearly half an hour, switching from the topic of best music to best ice cream flavor once they get closer to ordering. Time flies, though, especially with the way their lighthearted banter fills the air. Louis is relieved Harry seems to be able to keep up with his wit and even match it one for one.

 

When they finally get to the front of the line, the worker stares at Harry for a long while before she finally asks for his order. Louis is confused but doesn’t comment, and watches the way Harry leans against the counter and tells her he’d like a small chocolate moose tracks in a waffle cone. When Harry’s in the process of pulling out his wallet, Louis quickly orders mint chocolate chip in a cone and hands his credit card over before Harry even has the chance.

 

It takes a second to realize Louis is paying for both of them, but when he does he attempts to bat Louis’ hand away. It doesn’t work—the girl behind the counter takes Louis’ card with a smirk and swipes it before Harry can protest. She hands it back, laughing quietly, and gets to work scooping their ice cream.

 

“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome.”

 

“Next time it’s on me,” Harry says, a while later, after they’ve gotten their ice cream. Now they’re walking across the street and through the grass to the park, looking for a clean picnic table that overlooks the lake.

 

Louis grabs Harry’s hand and tugs him towards the shore, smirking. “Next time?”

 

They stop walking and Harry levels his gaze with Louis’, eyes dark beneath the night sky and the tall oak trees. “Yeah, next time.”

 

Ice cream is dripping down his hand, cold and sticky. He doesn’t care. Just. Closes the distance between them until their toes are touching, and Louis has to lean his head back to meet Harry’s eyes. _Does he want this? He’s not pulling away._

 

With his free hand, he places it on the boy’s hip, soft and comfortable. Warm. He leans into that warmth, so close, and slips his fingers beneath the hem of his shirt, very slightly. Traces his thumb back and forth across the expanse of silky skin, and thinks, _this is nice. This is nice._

 

At the soft touch, Harry closes his eyes and leans forward, tilting his head down ever so slightly. Louis has to rise to the tips of his toes to press their lips together.

 

It’s calming. So utterly calming. Vaguely, Louis thinks, _aren’t there supposed to be fireworks?_ Most of the guys he’s kissed have caused a nervous feeling to stir low in his stomach—maybe not the most comfortable feeling, but definitely a sensation that means something.

 

But this. _This_ is calming. Soothing. No butterflies or fireworks or nervous energy. Just cool, calm waves rolling over him like the lake at night, with its lazy lull of sun-warmed water, so pleasant and tranquil. Their lips pressing together creates this sensation of _everything is okay. I promise everything is okay. There’s nothing to worry about. You’re safe here._

 

The thing is, the constant pressure of Harry’s lips against his own feels like a reassurance. Like the sunset-laden sky stretching out around him and wrapping him up in warm summer air, the evening breeze tickling his skin. His kiss feels like swimming in the lake at the end of August, when the water has been warmed from months of sun, and the world is sated. Content.

 

When Harry brings his hand up to cup Louis’ cheek in his palm, caressing his face, Louis sighs contentedly and slides his tongue into Harry’s mouth. It’s kind of a waste of great ice cream, with the way they’re both still clutching their cones with sticky, dripping fingers, but Louis figures it’s for a good cause.

 

Harry tastes sweet like chocolate and peanut butter and summer, Louis is sure he tastes like mint and chocolate himself, and the flavors swirl together with their breath and spit and it doesn’t sound perfect but it really, really is. Standing in the grass beside the shore, beneath the old oak trees, in the park across the street from Barney’s. The breeze from the lake ruffles their hair and bathes them in the fragrance of water and seaweed.

 

They pull away in sync, almost as if they somehow communicated the split. Louis holds his ice cream hand far away from the two of them as he buries his face in the crook of Harry’s neck and enjoys the warmth radiating off of him. There’s that feeling again, that whisper of, _everything is okay. You’re safe here. Let me take care of you._

 

“You’re lovely.”

 

Louis lifts his head enough to speak. “Yeah? So are you.”

 

“We should go running together sometime.”

 

“We should,” Louis agrees, thinking of spending a few hours every day with this wonderful man, running down the country roads and sharing stories of their lives.

 

“Tomorrow morning?”

 

“I have to work.”

 

“Early, then? Like a sunrise run?”

 

Louis isn’t really a morning person, but he’s not exactly going to turn down hanging out with Harry who wears women’s running shorts and knee-high socks. Harry who kisses him so sweetly and then holds him afterwards, like it means something to him. “Yeah, okay.”

 

They kiss a while longer, then throw out their melted ice creams and lick off their sticky fingers. Harry makes a scene of it, sucking his index into his mouth with his eyes locked on Louis’, and he’s partly joking, partly not. It’s still hot, of course, and leads to them making out against a tree, spit-slicked fingers forgotten.

 

Louis has Harry pressed up against the bark of the old oak, held in place by his hips so Louis can feel exactly how turned on Harry is right now. He kisses down his neck, sucking marks when Harry tells him it’s okay, and they rut against each other until it becomes too obscene to be in public.

 

Harry is the one to tug Louis across the grass this time, steadfastly, all the way back to the car. Louis just laughs at Harry’s eagerness and lets him tug him along, basking in the feeling of being wanted. It’s definitely mutual.

 

The ride home is long but Louis spends the time playfully teasing Harry. He starts by reaching over the center console and squeezing Harry’s thigh beneath his palm.

 

In response, Harry squawks and tightens his grip on the wheel. He doesn’t complain, though, so Louis takes that as a green light and decides to torture him a bit more by sliding his hand further up his thigh, closer and closer to the obvious obtrusion at his crotch. Definitely turned on, then.

 

When the road becomes less twisted and precarious, straightening out as corn fields line either side, Louis makes his move and quickly cups Harry’s crotch, gently squeezing. It makes him scream, of course, and swerve a bit on the road, but that’s why Louis waited for there to be no obstacles in the way.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry groans, throwing his head back and shoving Louis’ hand away from his crotch. “Do you want me to crash the fucking car?”

 

Louis just laughs to himself and looks out the open window, enjoying the nighttime breeze rushing in.

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Afraid of what he’ll find—what sights or sounds might assault his senses—Louis hesitates before opening the door.

 

“What?” Harry asks, from his position of attachment to Louis’ body, the entire length of his chest pressed to Louis’ back, crotch to bum as well. Hands on Louis’ hips, face in Louis’ neck. Leaving wet kisses all over his skin. Eager.

 

Louis clings hard at any semblance of sanity, courageously trying to maintain his train of thought even with the way Harry is touching him.

 

“Liam and Zayn.”

 

“Who?” Harry asks, still nosing up and down Louis’ neck, covering his skin in kisses.

 

“My roommate and his sort-of boyfriend are inside.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Probably fucking.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Sorry, maybe we should- Wait. I have an idea.” Louis flips around in Harry’s arms to see him raising his eyebrows. “Follow me.”

 

He tugs a confused but enthusiastic Harry down the cool grass, through the weightless darkness of the endless summer night. When they get to the docks Harry stills a little bit, slowing down and obviously hesitant.

 

“I have a boat,” Louis reasons, turning around to match Harry’s gaze. He looks gorgeous like this, standing on the edge of the wooden dock, the nighttime breeze gently ruffling his hair, eyes dark beneath the sky full of stars. “Is that okay?”

 

“You mean like… You want to-“ He gestures between them with a quick flutter of his hands, “-with me, on your boat?”

 

Louis nods, trying not to let a crazy grin overtake his face. “Only if you want to.”

 

Harry covers his face with his hands, overwhelmed. Very quietly, low enough that Louis barely catches it over the sound of the waves, he says, voice muffled by his palms, “I’ve never been fucked on a boat before.”

 

Louis smiles, letting a laugh slip out, and resumes tugging Harry’s hands to pull him down the dock. “There’s a first for everything, then.”

 

When they get there, Louis cranks the wheel so the boat will be lowered enough to float in the water, but not enough that it drifts away. He steps on first and then offers a hand to Harry to guide him over the large, precarious gap between the dock and the boat. Harry’s stumbles onto the deck but doesn’t fall, though when Louis catches a glimpse of him again he sees he’s blushing. Louis’ heart swells, as he finds Harry’s clumsiness just so endearing.

 

Louis pulls Harry close by the loops of his jeans, kissing him sweetly beneath the stars. The lake laps languidly against the edges of the boat, creating a euphony of summertime sounds, blending with the cicadas and the wind. When Harry cups his face again just like he did before at the park, holding Louis’ face so reverently between his palms, Louis feels his knees buckle.

 

To keep his mind off the delicate way Harry is touching him, Louis detaches their lips in favor of kissing from his chin, up his jaw, to the crest of his ear. “For the record,” He whispers, voice purposefully low and raspy, “I’ve never fucked anyone on my boat before either.”

 

That makes Harry groan aloud, arching his back to press their hips together incessantly. “Get on with it, then,” He gasps, rocking forward as a particularly forceful wave jostles the boat.

 

“Cushion or floor?” Louis asks, just as breathless, as Harry is busy sucking hickeys all down his neck.

 

“Floor- Just- Anywhere. _God_ . Right _here_.”

 

Before Louis has a chance to respond or react in any way, Harry is sliding down to his knees and popping the button of Louis’ jeans open, tugging the zipper down impatiently. He begins mouthing along the fabric of his boxers, hot breath enough to drive Louis insane.

 

“Fuck, _Harry_ ,” He moans in a gasp, already aching and desperate. Everything is happening so quickly but he doesn’t want it to stop, so he lets it go on, and allows Harry to pull down his boxers and engulf him with his mouth without preamble. _Fuck_.

 

He leans back against the steering wheel, feeling so unbelievably overwhelmed he can’t focus on anything but the feel of Harry’s mouth on him. Unsure of what to do with his hands, or if it’s really okay to touch him at all, they hover awkwardly in the air for a moment before he decides to just fuck it and set them on Harry’s head. Harry hums in obvious pleasure, the vibrations sending earth-shattering bliss racking through Louis’ body, so he entangles his fingers in the soft locks of hair and pets at him encouragingly.

 

“So good,” Louis whispers into the night breeze, tangling his hands further and tugging very, very softly. “So good for me, baby.”

 

Harry keens, taking Louis further until his nose is pressed against Louis’ tummy, exhaling little puffs of air and staying there for a long while, working his throat muscles enough that Louis thinks he may possibly come right now, just minutes into their rendezvous. _Fuck_ , he thinks again, when he looks down and sees Harry’s big, dark eyes staring up at him, like he’s waiting for a command or something.

 

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis gasps, cradling his head close with shaking hands, being soft and gentle with him because Harry is truly a prize to be cherished. How is he so perfect?

 

That seems to be the key to get Harry to move, as he pulls off all the way with a popping sound and very determinedly says, “Fuck my mouth.”

 

Louis has to close his eyes again to gather strength. What is he supposed to say? ‘No’? So he just nods and tries not to have a heart attack from the overstimulation of seeing an angelically beautiful man below him, on his knees for him, looking up at him with those big eyes and telling him to _fuck his mouth. God_.

 

Harry obediently folds his hands behind his back and opens his mouth wide, waiting for Louis to press into him. Louis has never had a sexual partner so _willing_ to give head, it’s kind of worrying, but a glance downward at Harry’s hard on proves he’s enjoying this as much as Louis is. Which may or may not be so insanely hot, Louis feels he might pass out.

 

_Oh my fucking god_ , Louis thinks, before caressing Harry’s cheeks with his palms and slowly sliding into his mouth. Harry stares up at him all the while, eyes shining in the starlight. The reflections of stars twinkle distantly.

 

When he gets close enough to the edge that he’s certain he’ll come if he has Harry’s mouth on him a second longer, he pulls out. His actions leave Harry looking wrecked with his lips shining with spit, eyes wide and dark.

 

“What are you doing?” Harry gasps, breathless, trying to get his mouth on him again.

 

Louis pushes him away gently and helps him up from his knees, kissing his cheek. “I need you on my cock.”

 

“I just was, though.”

 

“Your bum, I mean,” Louis clarifies, herding Harry up against the side of the boat and rutting their hips against each other, his wet cock sliding up against the fabric of Harry’s jeans. _They really need to go_ , he thinks distractedly, as he dreams about what Harry looks like beneath his clothes. He must be absolutely gorgeous, godlike. “Is that okay?”

 

“Do you have lube?”

 

Louis pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and tosses it towards Harry who nearly drops it over the side of the bought in a measly attempt to catch it. His fingers are shaking when he searches inside and pulls out a condom and a travel-sized packet of lube. Setting Louis’ wallet down safely in a cup holder beside the steering wheel, he looks at Louis, very impressed. “You’re quite prepared.”

 

Louis shrugs in response. “You never know when you’re gonna fuck the most gorgeous man alive in your boat.”

 

“If you’re trying to get in my pants it’s working,” Harry says back, already sinking to the floor of the middle of the boat and shoving his jeans off his legs.

 

“I can see that,” Louis teases, kneeling beside him to help him out of his clothes before removing his own jeans as well. He tries not to think of the fish blood that’s probably still lingering on the carpet of the boat, despite lots of scrubbing. It’s difficult to be distracted by the probable fish blood, though, because Harry starts kissing him again and his vision swirls in and out of focus.

 

Besides, the sight of a naked Harry is enough to make his head spin. His skin is gorgeously pale beneath the moonlight, all smooth and soft. Louis admires the art of his tattoos, specifically the large moth-like image on his tummy, and the laurels lining the soft skin of his hips. Tracing them with his fingers, he admires the sight of an already fucked-out Harry beneath him, ready and waiting. It’s a beautiful sight, and to know it’s all for Louis…

 

After that, everything is a bit blurry. Louis opens Harry up with his fingers and the packet of lube, causing him to moan loud enough the sound carries over the water, though it’s carried away by the wind. Then he flips over onto his tummy and waits with his legs spread open until Louis leans over him and pushes inside, the pleasure of it all making them both gasp breathlessly.

 

The warm heat of Harry is so indescribably amazing, as he pushes in until his hips are snug against Harry’s cute bum. Harry folds his arms in front of himself and rests his head on them, sighing contentedly, happy to let Louis take charge.

 

Louis pulls out to the tip before rocking forward so slow he burns with it, dragging a low moan from the man beneath him. He keeps going at this constant, unhurried pace, deliberately fucking Harry with steady force. The angle isn’t the easiest to pound into him, so he goes slowly, taking his time and trailing kisses up and down Harry’s spine, marking his shoulders with love bites.

 

Harry is whimpering in pleasure beneath him, rocking his hips back to meet Louis’ thrusts, gasping out these soft little breaths and sighs that mix with the lull of the waves and the scuttle of the wind to create a pleasing melody.

 

_Gorgeous_ , Louis thinks, as his eyes scan over the planes of Harry’s face, the curve of his shoulders and the arch of his spine. So lovely and beautiful and perfect, Louis can barely contain himself from smothering Harry with the weight of his heart. _I like you a lot_ , he thinks again, not even feeling weird that he barely knows a thing about Harry but feels comfortable enough with him to be so incredibly intimate in this way. Harry feels familiar, as if they’ve known each other for ages.

 

“I’m gonna come,” Harry gasps, reaching behind him to grasp at Louis’ arm, fingers curling around his bicep. “I’m gonna come I’m gonna-“

 

“Shh,” Louis soothes, still thrusting gently as ever, leaning down more to kiss at the back of his neck. He sounds much calmer than he truly feels, with the way his core is burning, body so adamant to reach an orgasm _right now_ , yet somehow managing to stave it off just a little longer. He wants to get Harry there first, he needs to pull him apart and let him fall before Louis himself can truly relax. “It’s okay baby, you can come. Go ahead, you can come.”

 

Harry shudders, body visibly tensing up, eyes squeezing shut, before he bites into the skin of his forearm and moans out something that sounds an awful lot like _Louis_. Louis knows he’s coming by the way his fingers tense around Louis’ arm for a long moment before releasing, his body falling lax to the floor of the boat as Louis fucks him through it.

 

He’s close, and closer now at the sight of Harry lying so sated, shaking with the weight of his orgasm. It’s only a few more thrusts before he stills inside of Harry, hit hard by intense waves of pleasure. He collapses forward, chest to Harry’s warm back, and mouths at his neck lazily, too fucked out to do anything else.

 

“I’m gonna fall asleep,” Harry warns, shifting ever so slightly. It’s enough to jostle Louis’ dick inside him, making Louis hiss in overstimulation mixed with pleasure.

 

“Not here you’re not,” Louis whispers, finding the strength to push himself up. They’re still connected though, and now Harry is the one who’s hissing. “I have to get you home.”

 

“Why can’t we stay here?” He whines, voice muffled by the way his mouth is still pressed to his wrist from when he was biting against it to keep from crying out.

 

The use of the word _we_ makes Louis’ head spin. He would love to cuddle Harry for the rest of the night and wake up with him in his arms.

 

“Can we at least go to my bedroom, then?”

 

“Only if I can stay the night. In bed. With you.”

 

Impressed with how forward Harry’s request is, and how he isn’t afraid to demand what he wants, Louis smiles without restraint as he admires the beautiful man beneath him. He pulls out and gently rolls Harry onto his side, kissing his forehead. “Okay, fine. But you have to get up now, okay? So we can go inside?”

 

Harry whines in complaint but sits up, grumpily wiping up his come with his hand and pulling on his clothes. Meanwhile, Louis gets rid of the condom and gets dressed as well. It takes longer than it should but they’re both fucked out and exhausted, ready to collapse now that they’re both meek and sated.

 

Harry nearly trips off the dock again when he steps off the boat but Louis steadies him with a tight grasp on his wrist to keep him from toppling into the shining black water, glistening in the moonlight. If he fell in, Louis wouldn’t hesitate to jump in after him, despite the fact that he really doesn’t feel like swimming right now.

 

“Do you think your friends are asleep?” Harry asks when they’re nearly to the door, Louis’ arm slung around his waist as they walk closely together.

 

“Knowing them? Definitely not.”

 

And he’s right, when they enter the house they can hear the faint sound of two people moaning. Zayn and Liam have never been quiet about it but for once Louis doesn’t care as he guides Harry down the hall and into his own bedroom.

 

They should definitely shower, or at the very least wipe off with a towel or something because come is drying on their skin already and in the morning they’ll wake up sticky and uncomfortable. But they don’t; they’re both so exhausted, they strip out of their clothes as soon as they get into Louis’ bedroom. Louis falls face first onto the bed and Harry clambers on top of him, soft cock dragging against his bum, and pulls the blankets over them. Then he snuggles close, pressing his face into Louis’ neck, sniffling quietly, and promptly falls asleep.

 

For Louis, sleep comes a short while later, but he spends the waking time enjoying the feel of Harry’s weight on top of him. The man is breathing in long breaths through his nose, sending little puffs of air across the sensitive skin of Louis’ neck, causing him to shiver. The lullaby of his breathing is not only adorable, but soothing. It’s the last sensation he remembers processing before he’s out like a light.

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

**Sunday, June 18th, 2017 - [84 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

Early the next morning Louis wakes up to a pleasantly warm weight on top of him. Skin pressed on skin, humid breath curling against his neck, and soft hair tickling his cheek. The feel of someone’s heart beating steadily against his back, his own heart in sync with the tempo. Harry.

 

Using his phone to check the time, he sees he has to be at work in an hour and a half. Not too bad, then, but definitely not enough time for them to go for a morning run like Harry had planned for them last night. Louis sighs drowsily, deciding to just go back to bed, when Harry shifts above him, legs shifting so they’re even more tangled together.

 

“Where are you going?” Harry asks, voice surprisingly clear for an early morning.

 

“Back to sleep.”

 

“No running?”

 

“I’m exhausted, aren’t you?”

 

Harry ignores him. “If we aren’t running, then you should fuck me again.”

 

“How does that make any sense?” Louis teases, feeling himself blush at Harry’s brazenness. It’s a weird feeling, since as a rule Louis never gets flustered enough to blush. Apparently all it takes is for a naked man to lie on top of him and suggest they have sex again. He snuggles deeper into the pillow, hoping Harry doesn’t notice the redness heating his cheeks, a mark of embarrassment.

 

“Well, what else are we gonna do?”

 

“Go back to sleep?” Louis asks, lifting his head slightly again once he’s fairly certain his cheeks have returned to their everyday non-blushing color.

 

“I’ll ride you,” Harry offers shamelessly, squeezing at Louis’ hips.

 

Okay, that definitely has Louis interested. He flips over, effectively tumbling Harry off of him, and turns on his side to face him, asking, “Who the fuck even are you?”

 

Even though Louis says it as a joke, Harry immediately stills, sitting up, spine rigidly straight. From here, Louis can see the folds of Harry’s tummy, and he finds himself a little more than endeared—even though Harry is acting weirdly nervous and asking, “What?”

 

Maybe Louis should be worried by Harry’s abnormal reaction, but he says what’s on his mind anyways. “I just mean that you’re so much, but like, in a good way. Like, so… So a lot of things. And I barely know anything about you.”

 

“Oh,” Harry breathes, relaxing infinitely, and at once Louis wonders why. His shoulders curl again and he leans down to kiss Louis sweetly on the lips, slipping a little tongue in but not too much especially for the morning. Louis gets lost in it, just a little bit. “I could tell you, if you want.”

 

“Could you do it while you’re on my cock? We could multitask.”

 

Harry nods, biting back a smile. He finds the lube and a condom in the nightstand drawer, opening himself up with his own fingers because he’s too impatient for Louis to do it. With a sigh he sinks down onto Louis, stilling once their skin meets. Bright green eyes, shining in the dim morning light. His cheeks are heating up to a faint pink from the action and Louis is glad he isn’t the only one blushing at the situation. “Well, what do you want to know about me?”

 

“What’s your favorite thing to do?”

 

Harry smirks down at him, pressing his hands to Louis’ tummy so he doesn’t topple over. “Fucking myself on you.”

 

“Hah-hah,” Louis says, very unimpressed, but trying hard not to smile. “But seriously.”

 

“I like to sing,” Harry answers shyly. He lifts his hips up until the tip of Louis’ cock catches on his rim, making him gasp out a little breath. Then he holds himself there, paused midair and arching his back in pleasure. _Such a tease._

 

“You do?” Louis asks, thrusting up so Harry falls back down on him with a long, loud moan that is definitely not quiet enough to stay confined to the bedroom. _Payback for Liam and Zayn making a racket all night_ , Louis thinks.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry gasps. He presses Louis’ hips down with his hands to keep him still before he starts bouncing up and down, arching his back again. “It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

 

“How old are you?”

 

“Twenty-three. You?”

 

“Twenty-five. What brings you to Lake Chautauqua?”

 

“I needed-“ He moans, swiveling his hips and fucking down harder, getting distracted by the movement for a wall, lost in the pleasure. Eventually he finishes, “-a break. A vacation.”

 

“Where do you live, then?”

 

“London. Kind of. Nowhere.”

 

“Nowhere?”

 

“I travel for work.”

 

“What do you do for work, then?”

 

“I can’t tell you. But I’m an entertainer.”

 

So he could be anywhere from a stripper to a stand-up comedian. Honestly, Louis can see Harry as either occupation. He wants to ask more but Harry has been careful not to mention anything about what he does all last night, so Louis does the respectable thing and decides not to push him. If he’s meant to find out, he’ll find out. He just hopes Harry isn’t lying about who he is, because he seems like such a lovely person. Even at this point, so late in the game, Louis knows he wants to try out a relationship with him. Harry is one of those people Louis knows he can’t just let go from his grasp and never see again. This definitely isn’t a one-and-done kind of deal.

 

Harry leans forward, removing his hands from Louis’ hips in favor of grasping onto his shoulders. Louis can tell he’s getting tired, so he tries to help out best he can by guiding Harry with his hands on his hips and thrusting upwards in rhythm.

 

“Ask me something,” Louis urges before he tugs Harry down with a hand on the back of his neck, and begins kissing along his jaw.

 

Voice broken up by the exertion and the way he’s whining with the pleasure of it all, he manages to breathe out, “Do you do this- often?”

 

Louis breaks away enough to detach his lips from Harry’s neck. “Do what?”

 

“Pick people up at bars.”

 

“Oh,” Louis laughs a little to ease the tension, but he understands Harry’s insecurity. “No, you’re the only one. It was very impulsive of me but I just couldn’t resist.”

 

“You promise?”

 

What is Louis supposed to say, ‘no’? That would be ridiculous, so luckily it’s the truth that he never really does this. One night stands are very out of character for Louis, not that he judges people who are into that but because he feels like it’s the perfect highway to getting his heart broken. “’Course, babe, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

 

“Okay, good.”

 

Harry looks like he’s on the verge of tears with the way he’s fucking himself down on Louis, and Louis feels much of the same. Pleasure is blossoming in his core and he’s certain he’s not going to last, but he definitely wants to get Harry off first. He just feels like he can’t relax until Harry is satisfied too.

 

“You’re gorgeous, babe,” Louis tells him, remembering how much he seemed to like the praise from last night. Louis can definitely compliment him, as he takes in the sight of Harry above him. Harry, who looks so gorgeously fucked out, with his cheeks tinged pink and his eyes shimmering in the morning light. He’s absolutely glowing. “So pretty, so good for me. Taking me so well.”

 

Harry slumps even further forward, burying his face in Louis neck and messily mouthing kisses along his skin. “You feel- so good,” He manages to whisper in staccato breaths. “So good.” Body completely relaxed, he gives Louis more power and leverage to set a relentless pace and fuck up into him, their slow morning sex turning into something more intense.

 

With one hand still on Harry’s hip to steady him, Louis slips another hand between their bodies and starts to pull Harry off. Harry moans loud at the touch, but the sound is muffled in the crook of Louis’ neck where he’s snuggled, which is probably a good thing since they’re being so disruptive to the other members of the house.

 

It doesn’t take long before Harry is coming, spilling between them. His body tenses, hands curling tightly around Louis’ shoulders. At the terminus of his orgasm he relaxes into a puddle of goo, lying completely on top of Louis and burying his face even deeper into the crook of his neck.

 

The warm weight of Harry’s sated body is both calming and sensual enough that Louis comes too. He fills the condom and his hips stutter, falling out of rhythm, and he stills inside of Harry, holding him tightly.

 

The subsequent moments are a bit of a daze. Louis doesn’t remember much but the comforting feel of Harry on top of him, encompassing all of his senses. Harry nuzzles closer, wrapping his arms and legs around Louis to keep him near, obviously a fan of after-sex cuddling, not that Louis is complaining. This, right now, wrapped up in Harry, is one of the best feelings in the world.

 

So he doesn’t mean to, but he falls asleep again, still inside Harry. And if he’s a little late to work, well, then, so be it.

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m surprised, that’s really not like you.”

 

“I already told you, Lee-am. He’s _special_ ,” Louis responds icily, though the bite isn’t there. He knows Liam is joking but somehow he feels defensive of what he and Harry did last night. In the moment it felt so right, and he doesn’t regret it one bit, so the way Liam is questioning him makes his skin crawl. Even if it’s just a joke.

 

“Guess so.”

 

“Don’t act like you and Z didn’t get up to the exact same thing.”

 

Liam rolls his eyes, folding his last t-shirt and placing it on top of the pile of clean laundry. Louis is supposed to be helping but right now he prefers to lounge on the couch and kick his best friend in the shins every time he gets close enough.

 

Besides, he just got home from work, and he’s so exhausted he feels like he might just turn to dust. Between the long day at the marina, and not getting any sleep last night, jaded is an understatement. He had originally planned to go for a run but decided against it—he’s too tired and it’s also eighty-five degrees outside, which is definitely not ideal running weather. His workout will have to wait for tomorrow.

 

Throughout the day and into the evening, Louis catches himself thinking about Harry more than he should, probably. But really, can he be blamed? The two of them seemed to hit it off so well, and every time Louis thought about their night spent together, this warmth would flood into his chest and calm him infinitely. Having never felt this strange sensation before, he doesn’t exactly know what to do. All he knows is that if Harry is the cause, he damn well is going to spend more time with him. It’s too good of a feeling to pass up.

 

Exhausted as he is, he crawls into bed at half past ten. The sheets feel soft and smooth against his bare skin; he had to wash them earlier because there was no way he would sleep in the sheets, dirty as they were from the night’s escapade. He definitely made the right decision, as annoying as it was to do the laundry himself rather than bribing Liam to do it like he usually does.

 

So, the stupid thing, which he realizes just moments before falling asleep, is that he never got Harry’s phone number. The recognition of this little fact makes his eyelids flutter open though he was seconds before slumber. He stares up at the blank ceiling and the way the reflection of the moonlight on the lake scintillates tiny little flashes of light here and there. God, he is so stupid.

 

But it feels so much like fate. Like the universe will bring them together again if he just has faith.

 

They were too good together to not be made for each other. This thought calms him enough to fall asleep.

 

If it’s meant to happen, it will happen.

 

 

 

 

 

**Wednesday, June 21** **st** **, 2017 – [81 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

They don’t see each other again until four days later, in the middle of the week, on the summer solstice.

 

Louis is halfway through his eight-mile run and he’s already planning on what he’ll do when he gets back: change into his swim trunks, pack a cooler full of beer, and drag Liam down to the docks. There’s truly no better way to enjoy the longest day of the year than by spending the sunset on the lake.

 

The thing is, he doesn’t get that far.

 

Louis is running down the same road in which he first saw Harry. That time he turned around at three miles which was at the top of the hill, giving him a gorgeous view of his surroundings spread out around him. Now, though, searching for a higher mileage yet at a slower pace, he heads out a mile further.

 

After cresting the hill, the subsequent mile is all on the same plane. Though there are a few rolling hills here and there, the road remains relatively high up, so the view is incredible. He likes it up here, surrounded by empty farmland, with the forest farther away and on a lower plane so it doesn’t obstruct the vista.

 

There’s something peaceful about it, is all. The country road, lengthy and winding, is vacant, save for one or two pickup trucks that pass during the hour Louis is running. Each time he shifts over to the side of the road so as not to get run over, and the wind from the truck passing casts a breeze over him and the cornstalks beside him.

 

He sees him when he’s heading back up the hill on the main road, this one more busy with lots of SUVs and vans lugging kayaks and other vacation items. The sun won’t set for hours now, but it has started its slow descent already. Everything is encased in a growing golden glow, painting the world in a romantic, summery light.

 

“Louis!” He hears from behind him, though he wouldn’t have heard if he were listening to music like he normally does. Usually he needs an upbeat playlist to get him through a long run, but sometimes it feels nice to just listen to the sound of the air rushing past him as runs.

 

When he slows down enough to turn around, he sees Harry running to catch up to him. He’s coming from the Y-bend in the road, and he’s out of breath. His cheeks are pink and his skin is shimmering with sweat. He looks heavenly.

 

“Hey Harry,” Louis greets, sounding less exhausted than he feels. He has about a mile and a half left, and usually he hates stopping in the middle of a run, and hates it even more to stop at the beginning of a hill. But there’s a very lovely person calling his name and he just can’t resist slowing to a halt to allow him to catch up.

 

They exchange pleasantries, nothing out of the ordinary, but Harry is grinning so wide, he looks a bit manic. It’s cute though.

 

“I didn’t get your number,” Harry points out, once they’ve gone through the whole _how are you? I’m good, and you?_ skit.

 

“That’s a true statement,” Louis agrees, smiling to himself and trying not to be too out of breath from the massive hill they just ran up together. Curse Harry and his long runner legs which make his gait effortless and professional. Meanwhile Louis feels as though he’s a child waddling up a hill. “What are you doing tonight?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Do you have plans?” Louis manages to get the words out, despite how out of breath he is. “It’s the summer solstice.”

 

“Oh? I hadn’t realized. Is that something you celebrate here?”

 

Louis shrugs best he can while running. “Sort of, I mean, it’s a summer thing. There’s a festival across the lake and Liam and I usually take the boat over and check it out, watch the fireworks if we feel like it, all that.”

 

“There’re fireworks?”

 

“Mhm. They shoot them off over the lake, and it looks cool with the reflection on the water. There are only a few tonight—much less than on the Fourth of July, you know? But it’s nice.”

 

“That sounds really cool. Are you inviting me?”

 

“Of course,” Louis laughs. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I hadn’t wanted you to come.”

 

“Oh, okay, good.”

 

They’re passing the golf course now, almost back to Louis and Liam’s house. Louis wonders what Harry will do when they get there… if he’ll come inside, or turn back around to finish his run. Secretly, he hopes for the former.

 

“Is that a yes, then?”

 

“Yeah, but only if Niall can come too.”

 

When Louis chances a glance over at Harry, shining in the late afternoon sunlight, he sees that big wide grin on his face, and can’t help but feel a little dizzy. “Invite anyone you want,” He says eventually. “We have room for about five more people if need be. Though the boat does get a bit crowded.”

 

Before they run down hill that leads to the driveway that leads to Louis’ house by the water, Louis spins around to stop Harry and make it clear he doesn’t need to go inside if he doesn’t want to, especially since they’ll be spending the evening together.

 

Harry’s smile softens and he bounces on his toes, obviously not wanting to stop in the middle of a run either.

 

“I should probably finish my run and shower then. What time do you want me? And where should we meet?”

 

“Come at six if you want dinner; Liam is grilling. Otherwise meet here at seven, yeah?”

 

“Niall and I’d love dinner. Don’t think I’ve had a home-cooked meal in a while. You sure it’s not a burden?”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

 

Harry’s grinning that crazy grin again, so wide it’s splitting his face. He’s glowing golden in the afternoon sun. “Perfect. See you then.” He turns and begins running back up the driving, giving a small wave behind him. The way he strides is so effortless, Louis again feels envious.

 

“See you,” He responds a bit wistfully, waving after Harry with the flutter of his hand. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected anything to come of their previous escapade, but now that it seems Harry actually has an interest in spending time with him, he feels this familiar warmth creeping into his heart and spreading throughout his chest.

 

As feelings go, it’s a good one.

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

So Harry arrives a little after six o’clock with his Irish friend in tow. They’re both carrying bottles of wine that look way too expensive for a grill out.

 

Not for the first time, Louis wonders what Harry does for a living.

 

It doesn’t matter, though. Louis invites them around back and introduces them both to Liam, who is fiddling with the grill, and Zayn, who is fiddling with a guitar. After that, everyone is chatting amiably and Louis stands back for a second, a bit in awe of the way everything seems to be working out. Sometimes meeting new people, and having them over for dinner, is quite awkward, but everyone seems to be getting along splendidly. It definitely helps that the two newcomers, Harry and Niall, are extremely personable and charismatic. Louis can feel the excitement and energy radiating off of them, and it makes something similar bubble beneath his veins too.

 

“So you’re here for the summer?” Liam is asking Niall, and Louis tunes in even though he already heard the answer from Harry. He had been a bit vague with his answer, anyways.

 

“Yeah, just ‘till beginning of September. Haz and I needed a bit of a vacation.”

 

“Oh, why’s that?” Liam asks, obviously prodding for more, probably just to get the conversation going. With the spatula he pushes a burger down and it sizzles.

 

“Just, work and all. ‘S a bit hectic. Poor Harry over here is pretty overworked.”

 

“Do you guys work together?” Louis asks curiously, even though Harry has already kind of hinted that the topic is off limits. Louis doesn’t know why he does it, knowing that, but he does. He watches with interest, curiosity sparked, as Niall and Harry share a failingly subtle glance at each other.

 

“Umm, kind of, not really..?” Harry answers, sounding very unconvincing.

 

Louis hums like he understands, even though he doesn’t. But then Niall adds, “We work in similar departments, so… yeah, I guess.”

 

The conversation fizzles out and Louis doesn’t ask anymore. Harry is eyeing him nervously from across the deck and Louis can’t even begin to comprehend why. He sits down on the wooden bench and pulls out a cigarette, turning his eyes away from Harry who looks so gorgeous in the early evening sun.

 

By the time dinner is almost ready, Louis is in an easy conversation with Niall about football, and Harry is very intently questioning Zayn all about his guitar. It makes sense, since he said his favorite thing in the world is music.

 

Maybe that explains why Louis is so endeared when he sees the excitement lighting up on Harry’s face when Zayn offers the guitar to him. He begins messing around with the strings a bit, strumming a few chords that sound beautiful even though they’re random. Louis leans back, getting comfortable, entranced both by his conversation with Niall and the bit of acoustic music wafting over from Harry’s direction.

 

Dinner goes smoothly. It’s really nice. Louis is a person who likes to laugh a lot, always one for near constant raillery, but he’s pretty sure he hasn’t laughed this much in his entire life. The conversation of the five of them is such a great dynamic, he can feel it already. There’s something calming about it, this sense of belonging that it creates.

 

Over burgers, corn on the cob, green beans, and tater tots, the five of them become friends easily. It’s clear they’ll have quite the fun summer together, and Louis finds himself feeling relieved that Harry and Niall are staying for a few more months. It’s only been one night but he is already beginning to loathe the day they’ll leave. There’s something about it all that feels so distinctly like a summer he always dreams about, that makes him ache with nostalgia but in a good way.

 

After dinner they gather up everything they need to spend the evening on the boat. Snacks, beer, wine, blankets, towels, and Zayn’s guitar. Zayn gets weird about it being near the water, which is understandable, but the four of them vow to be careful as to not splash any water inside the boat, and Harry goes as far as to say he’ll protect it with his life. Zayn just rolls his eyes and mutters, _you better_.

 

They’re just about to leave the deck to head down the grassy hill towards the docks when Louis finally realizes what Harry’s wearing. He’s in a t-shirt and shorts, Nike trainers on his feet, and nothing else. Then Louis looks to Niall and sees much of the same. He wonders if either of them have ever been on a boat during sunset before. He thinks that maybe they haven’t.

 

So while the rest of them are debating whether or not they should park the boat right beneath the fireworks, since the view would be cool but they might also die from falling embers, Louis slips inside and rummages through his wardrobe for a few extra hoodies.

 

When he gets back it seems no one has noticed he left in the first place, which is fine because it means the conversation must be interesting. That or Louis is just forgettable, though by the way Harry makes eye contact with him before subtly pulling him by the waist into his side suggests otherwise.

 

Louis holds up the hoodies for Harry to see. He tried to choose the biggest ones, but he isn’t certain they’ll fit.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“You’re gonna get cold,” Louis tells him. “It’s windy on the boat and when the sun goes down it gets really cold.”

 

“Oh, thanks. That’s really nice of you.”

 

Louis smiles to himself, leaning into Harry a little more. He likes the feeling of Harry’s arm slung low around his waist, fingers loosely grasping his hip. Harry seems to be radiating heat and Louis vaguely wonders if he’ll even get cold at all. Maybe he’s just one of those people who are always warm. On the other hand, Louis is certainly the opposite, always cranky when he’s cold, and cold quite often.

 

They walk down the grass and then over the docks until they get to the boat. Liam cranks the wheel to lower it, probably trying to show off his big strong arms to Zayn, while Louis helps everyone inside. His eyes land on the middle of the deck, and his mind immediately betrays him by flashing back to a few nights ago when he had Harry lying on his tummy for him, head pillowed on his forearms, whimpering about how good it felt.

 

Louis can’t help it—he looks over at Harry, and sees him staring at the same spot, blushing faintly. Louis grabs his hand to catch his attention, and they make eye contact, sharing a secret laugh. It’s kind of like an inside joke, only dirtier, and Louis can’t get the image of Harry dropping down on his knees for him out of his mind. He rubs his thumb against the back of Harry’s hand and smiles when Harry squeezes his fingers in response.

 

“Tommo, you driving or am I?”

 

“I’ll drive there and you drive back?” Louis proposes, before opening a beer with his teeth. It’s one of his many skills.

 

“Ehh, fine.”

 

Louis smiles, patting Liam on the back in thanks. Driving is fun, but sometimes he’d much rather curl up in one of the seats and enjoy the ride. He knows he’ll have more energy to drive now, and besides, he hates driving in the dark, especially on a night when the lake will have more visitors than usual. It is the summer solstice after all.

 

“Umm, does it matter where we sit?” Harry asks as Louis is sliding on a pair of sunglasses. He sun is dipping lower in the sky now, turning the scenery into a painting in an art museum.

 

“Nah, sit wherever you’d like.”

 

Harry and Niall take that as their cue to rush up to the very front of the boat, squished on the point and overlooking the water like enthusiastic little children. Louis laughs, reminiscing about his first memories of boat outings, though his parents have had him on the lake before he could even form a complex thought. He grew up here on Lake Chautauqua, and he loves it dearly. He thinks he may as well be in love with it.

 

Eventually the two neophytes calm down and sit in their respective seats in the front of the boat. Niall takes a sip of his beer while Harry clutches his wine glass close to his chest—the one he was hesitant about bringing with him until Louis told him it was fine and that he does it all the time.

 

Liam is sitting beside Louis and Zayn is sitting at the back, already bundling up in a blanket though it’s barely even breezy yet. Once everything is settled, Louis turned the keys in the ignition, key chain full of random knickknacks jingling, and reverses until he has enough space to make a well-practiced maneuver away from shore.

 

It takes a moment to get out of the shallower water where the propeller may get tangled in seaweed. But once he’s certain they’re clear, he kicks up the gear to a moderate speed, enjoying the feeling of the wind ruffling his hair. Ahead of him, he can see Harry clutching the metal railing tightly an laughing every time they go over a particularly large wave. The way the sunlight caresses the planes of his face, the crinkles by his eyes as he laughs and his cute front teeth, is breathtaking. Louis tries not to get distracted.

 

Once he’s comfortable with the gear they’re in, he sits down on the stack of orange life jackets placed on the driver’s chair. Without the life jackets, he isn’t able to see over the dashboard, which he thinks is just poor designing, but Liam blames it on him being too short. Louis is quick to disagree, becoming indignant just thinking about it.

 

He speeds them to the center of the lake, taking wide turns just because he likes the way it makes Harry laugh. After a while it becomes less fun being jostled around a lot, so he slows it down and brings them closer to the opposite shore so they can do a bit of sightseeing. Liam explains everything like a proper tour guide, pointing out historic houses and important buildings.

 

Lake Chautauqua is a beautiful place and every day Louis feels blessed to have grown up here. His earliest memories are of this lake: wading in the muck at the shore, catching his first fish, walking across the lake in the winter when the top layer was frozen in a solid sheet of ice sturdy enough to support the weight of him and his friends.

 

He remembers the summers here, diving off the back of the boat and swimming deep enough to get tangled in the weeds. He remembers the autumns here, watching the trees’ leaves change from verdant green to brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow. He remembers the winters here, helping with the construction of the annual ice castle the town puts together every January. And he remembers the springs here, spending the fifty-degree days lying in the wet grass staring up at the sky, enjoying the warmth after months of cold.

 

The point is that he loves it here, he truly does. He doesn’t understand why Harry and his friend decided to come to Chautauqua, since barely anyone knows of its existence, and oftentimes the small town feeling of it all doesn’t vibe with the tourists who visit. Harry and Niall have only been here for a few days now, at least from what Louis can safely assume, and they don’t seem to be bored of it yet. Louis bites the corner of his thumbnail, deep in thought as he guides the boat over the waves, and hopes they don’t get tired of it too soon. He thinks the summer could be quite fun with them around.

 

A little while later they decide to head for the festival, which means Louis is in charge of docking the boat in an area crowded with other boats, jet skis, and people. Luckily, he’s been doing this for years, so he manages the maneuver effortlessly. He has Liam help by standing near the back and clutching the wooden post, easing them into the spot. Using the worn rope stored beneath the seats, Louis and Liam secure it to the dock with easy loops and fishermen’s knots.

 

The land in front of them is crowded with people. Music is blaring above the sounds of happy, animated chatter, and everyone seems to be excited and hyped up despite the fact that it’s just a Wednesday night. That’s the best thing about summer—every night can be lively without much effort. There are carnival games, food trucks, and vendors selling everything from Lake Chautauqua t-shirts to glow sticks to fishing lures. The crowd consists of people of all ages, from toddlers running through the grass shrieking happily, to elderly couples sitting peacefully on the benches that overlook the lake.

 

Louis pulls on his crewneck hoodie and gets out of the boat first to help the others up. He’s been doing this for years so he has pretty solid footing. Meanwhile Harry stumbles even when Louis is steadying him with his hand. He thinks Harry is quite clumsy, but Louis would be lying if he said he didn’t find it endearing.

 

“Thanks,” Harry squeaks, embarrassed, when he trips over a loose plank as he’s stepping out of the boat, and Louis steadies him with a hand on his should, the other clasping Harry’s own hand in a tight grasp.

 

“Alright?” Louis asks, checking just to be sure. The others are already walking ahead, halfway to the shore and jokingly pretending to push each other into the lake.

 

When Louis looks back at Harry he sees his lips are quirked up in a timid smile, looking a mix of embarrassed, sheepish, and all around soft. “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

 

Satisfied, Louis lets go of his shoulder. “Please don’t fall into the lake,” He jokes, using it as an excuse to tug Harry close by the waist. Harry doesn’t seem to mind.

 

The night is fun. It’s difficult to talk over the noise of the crowd and the music, but they have a ton of fun wasting their money on the carnival games which are probably rigged. Louis has pretty good aim, so he succeeds by knocking over the stack of cans on the first try, and then again at ring toss. Both times he gets to pick a prize, and both times he makes Harry pick out the stuffed animal, if only for the way Harry groans in embarrassment and blushes like crazy because it feels so much like a cliché movie where the guy impresses the girl by winning the stupid rigged carnival games.

 

Still, it’s hilarious to see Harry carrying around two stuffed animals. Both times, to Louis’ protest, he went for the only rainbow-colored option offered. The first one is a tiny bear the size of Harry’s hand and the second one is a teddy bear too, but much larger and regulation-sized. Harry clutches them tightly to his chest for a while, until he has the ‘hilarious’ idea to have Louis carry the big one instead.

 

Louis rolls his eyes lightheartedly though he’s secretly pleased and hugs the bear to his chest, no embarrassment whatsoever.

 

They’ve lost the others completely now, and Louis is glad that Niall doesn’t seem to mind third-wheeling Liam and Zayn. Louis has been in that position far too many times to count and frankly he’s quite irritated with their unspoken sexual tension, so thick and tangible it could be sliced through with a knife. It’s a relief to be beside Harry who makes him laugh easily and is so warm, heat radiates off of him as if he’s a furnace or a bonfire.

 

Speaking of bonfires, there’s an enormous fire right by the water’s edge. A crowd of people surrounds it, having to stand pretty far back because it’s so massive, nearly fifteen feet tall. Louis catches himself watching the flames dance, and Harry must notice, because he asks, “Wanna go over there?” They do, carrying their stuffed animals with them.

 

“I’m having a really nice time,” Harry admits, looking adorable with the tiny rainbow bear clutched between his abnormally large hands. _Nice hands_ , Louis thinks absentmindedly, remembering the way they grasped fervently at Louis’ hips when Harry was on top of him…

 

“Yeah? Me too. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you saw me and stopped to talk.”

 

“Of course,” Harry agrees, like he couldn’t fathom not catching up to Louis to greet him just as he did earlier in the day when Louis was caught up with running up a hill and hadn’t noticed Harry there. “I really need your number, by the way, just in case we don’t happen to bump into each other. I don’t really feel like leaving this up to chance.”

 

Though Louis is an avid believer in fate, destiny, and all that jazz, he agrees with what Harry’s saying. What if they never cross paths again after this unless they set up an actual date? It isn’t a risk Louis is willing to take.

 

“Give me your phone, then, Harold.”

 

Harry obliges and Louis types his number in, spending a bit too much time deciding which emoji to add to his name. Eventually he settles on the rainbow, sends himself a text so he has Harry’s number too, and slides the phone back into Harry’s back pocket, patting his bum for good measure.

 

“You’re a menace.”

 

“You just wish you had an excuse to touch _my_ bum.”

 

“Maybe,” Harry agrees. Louis smiles smugly. He knows his bum is quite the prize.

 

They remain standing in front of the fire for a while, warming up in the heat of its glow. Eventually Louis decides he has to pee, so he tells Harry, and Harry of course offers to go with him, so they head back through the crowded aisles of vendors until they reach the park restrooms. Harry opts to wait outside, saying he doesn’t have to go.

 

While he’s pissing, he realizes there is not one person in the last bathroom stall, but two. Upon curious inspection, he recognizes Liam’s sneakers, and then Zayn’s too. _God_ , he thinks, covering his eyes and then deciding it’s probably a better idea to look away and cover his ears instead. He really can’t escape it, apparently, no matter where he goes.

 

Louis hastily washes his hands, just barely resisting the urge to shout something embarrassing and profane and his friends who are going at it in the bathroom stall. As he’s washing his hands, he wonders where Niall is, and decides he and Harry should check up on him, since clearly Liam and Zayn ditched him in favor of sucking each other off in the gross park restroom.

 

When he gets outside he decides to tell Harry all of this, but is thrown off to not see Harry standing where he was when Louis left. Quickly and kind of worriedly, with an unsettled feeling in his stomach, Louis scans the crowd and doesn’t find him. Huh. He probably went to go grab food or something, or got sidetracked by a cute puppy. Or a baby. Louis has learned Harry quite likes babies. It’s an infinitely endearing fact.

 

Finally he spots the gangly tree of a man standing by the face-painting station, surrounded by a group of girls who all have their phones out. He has no idea what’s going on, but he sighs in relief and not having lost Harry for too long. With uncertainty, he approaches them, but doesn’t make himself known right away in case he’s interrupting something. What are they doing, hitting on him and asking for his number? That would explain why they all have their phones out… but who does that sort of thing in a group?

 

As he approaches, he sees Harry posing with each girl individually and smiling for a picture. His smile looks pretty strained, nowhere near the reaching grin Louis sees on him on the regular. It’s then that he decides to swoop in and rescue Harry.

 

Harry makes eye contact with him and looks a little panicked. He takes a picture with one more girl and then waves them away. From the furrow in Harry’s brow, Louis can tell he’s apologizing to them for something. Louis is so confused.

 

“Um, hey. Sorry about that.”

 

“What were you doing?” Louis asks, baffled. There’s absolutely no logical explanation.

 

Harry seems to be struggling for an explanation too. He flounders for a moment. Louis continues to wonder what in the hell was going on.

 

“Well?” He asks, a bit agitated. He doesn’t know why. “Why were you taking pictures with them? Were they hitting on you?”

 

“What? Oh, um, n-no—they were just. They needed a picture? For… something..?” The way he says it, likes it’s a question, makes Louis’ head spin.

 

He thinks about it a moment longer. Suddenly it makes sense. “Ohh,” He breathes, “They needed a picture for a scavenger hunt or something? I remember doing those in high school, good times.”

 

Harry visibly relaxes, shoulders slouching from their previous cataleptic state. “Yeah! Yeah, a scavenger hunt.”

 

“What did they need you for, anyway?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Like what was the task?”

 

“Oh. Uhh. Someone with… brown hair?”

 

Louis stares at him dully. The entire carnival must have hundreds of people with brown hair. Some of the girls themselves even had brown hair. Ultimately he decides not to question it. Harry shrugs.

 

A mom cradling a baby to her chest passes by. Harry lights up and nearly chases after her to say hi. Endeared, Louis is effectively distracted from the weird situation he just witnessed. He doesn’t think about it for the rest of the night.

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

At 10:30 they board the boat again, Liam as the captain this time. Louis takes the opportunity to sit in the front with Harry, since Niall and Zayn are sitting in the back discussing some comic that Louis doesn’t know or care about one iota.

 

“Hey Harold,” He greets as he sits up on the opposite side of Harry, pulling his feet up onto the bench and wrapping his arms around himself. As Liam pulls out of the dock, the gentle movement sends them rocking on the waves and into the breeze. It feels as though the temperature drops five degrees. Niall passes a few blankets up to them like the good friend he is.

 

“Hey Louis,” Harry echoes, and the way he says Louis’ name in his deep voice, _Lou-eh_ , sounds so charming Louis can’t help but smile in return.

 

“Having fun?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Fancy a night swim?”

 

“Fuck no.”

 

Louis laughs. “Another time, then.”

 

Later in the summer, the water’s a lot warmer, and it’s actually pretty pleasant to swim at night. It’s a bit creepy too, with the way the water looks like shimmering black India ink, and it’s impossible to tell what’s just beneath your feet… There are quite a few concerning fish in this lake, Louis thinks, remembering all the times he’s been fishing and caught fish with teeth. Huge fish, two feet long, or longer. He shudders.

 

Harry agrees with this promise of another time and then falls silent, looking out over the water and the way the boat glides over the calming waves, so smooth and effortless. Louis follows suit, getting lost in the moonlight’s reflection on the water, a glowing strip of white in the midst of a sea of black.

 

Liam finds a good spot the five of them finally agree on, seeing as it’s close enough to shore to get out a good view of the fireworks, but not too close to get them rained on by burning embers.

 

Niall passes around beer while Zayn fiddles with the radio. In a few minutes everyone has a bottle in their hands, and Pink Floyd is heard above the wind. When Louis looks up, he sees a sky full of stars.

 

“Do you know any of the constellations?” Harry asks, curious.

 

“A few, not much though,” Louis admits, setting his beer down in favor of tilting his head back to get a good look. “Ummmm, right now I see the Summer Triangle, right… _there_ , see it? Those three bright stars right there. By the little cluster of dim ones?”

 

“Oh! Yeah, I see it.”

 

“And there’s the Big Dipper… The Little Dipper is over there. Orion’s Belt, the Seven Sisters, uhhh, what else… I dunno, I think that’s all I know. There’s one named Sirius that’s supposedly shaped like a hotdog but really it’s just two stars in a line. I can never find it.”

 

Harry laughs a little, and when Louis looks away from the stars he sees Harry wasn’t even trying to follow where Louis was pointing. He had just been staring at Louis the entire time. For some reason this makes Louis feel abnormally warm, even in the chilly lake breeze. “What?” He asks, feeling a little breathless with the way Harry is looking at him.

 

“Nothing,” Harry mutters, looking like he’s biting his lip only to keep back a smile. “Just. Are you cold?”

 

“Oh. A little.”

 

“C’m’ere, then.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Harry leans back against the seat and spreads his legs, patting the space in between his thighs. “Come sit with me.”

 

It’s an offer Louis isn’t really in any position to decline, considering how enticing Harry’s thighs look. Right. So he stands up and shuffles over, sitting down between Harry’s legs. Harry coaxes him back until he’s resting on Harry’s chest, Harry’s arms around his torso.

 

“Comfy?”

 

“Yeah, very.”

 

“Good.” Harry starts rubbing his hands up and down Louis’ arms, and even through the thick material of his hoodie, his skin tingles at the contact. It does a lot to warm him up, though Louis keeps shivering. Harry pulls the extra blanket over the both of them, wrapping it tight. “Fuck, are you always this cold?”

 

“Ehh,” Louis responds noncommittally. He gets cold a bit more often than the average person, and he doesn’t know why, but it’s annoying. “You’re really warm though. ‘S nice.”

 

“I’m glad. Now scooch closer.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ tummy beneath the blanket and pulls Louis so he’s completely flush against him. It’s an intimate position, but he’s too comfortable to care enough to move away. Besides, he’s already had his dick all the way inside Harry’s ass. He thinks they can afford a bit of nonsexual intimacy.

 

The fireworks begin at ten forty-five. The first explosions have the crowd gasping in awe and applauding as the sparks dissipate. When Louis looks around he sees the entire section of the lake is occupied by boats just like his own, full of people enjoying the show. The annual event is important to the people of Chautauqua, and treated as such. It’s the official start of summer.

 

The show is beautiful, as it always is, but Louis finds himself enjoying it quite a bit more than usual because he has the arms of an amazing person wrapped around him. Additionally, Harry keeps making cute little comments through the entire thing, oo’s and ah’s at each explosion, commenting on his favorite ones. Louis reciprocates, vocalizing his own favorite displays, preferring the golden fireworks that cascade through the black sky like waterfalls of sparks.

 

The finale is particularly vigorous and full of life, consisting of a hundred ear-splitting booms in a row as the fireworks go off one after another in increasing tempo until they begin to overlap and four or five are going off at once and the entire sky is lit up in smoke and red, green, blue, or yellow glow. The explosions echo over the lake, the smoke dissipating in the wind, and there’s something so human about it, this great disruption of nature. It’s pointless and chaotic and beautiful. If that’s not a description of humanity, then Louis doesn’t know what is.

 

“Wow,” Harry breathes against the back of Louis’ neck, in awe of the fireworks.

 

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, a little breathlessly. The breathlessness is due in part to the beauty of the fireworks, but mostly because Harry is pressed so close to him, he can feel the dig of Harry’s hip bones in his lower back.

 

It’s probably not healthy that he’s fallen for someone so quickly.

  
  
  


 

 

**Friday, June 23rd, 2017 - [79 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

Of the twenty-five years of his life, Louis has never had a real boyfriend.

 

Sure, he has dated a bit, but only after high school when he felt safe enough to come out. There were a lot of great aspects to growing up in a small town but not everything was ideal. In a few ways, the people of Chautauqua County could be considered provincial, and the acception of sexualities other than heterosexual was quite the controversy especially when Louis was growing up. When he was really young, he hadn’t even realized there were other people like him. Later, when he found out he wasn’t alone in the world, he still felt alone in the small town and never really felt comfortable to be himself until college.

 

It sounds sadder than it is, really. Louis isn’t too bitter about his past, and he’s not holding any grudges. He was never bullied, really, because people hadn’t known, but now that he’s back in New York and fully out of the closet he hasn’t really faced any animosity. Aside from a few typical heteronormative comments and assumptions, that is, but that’s standard and more of an annoyance than anything.

 

As a result, Louis spent his early years avoiding relationships because he has no interest in girls, and he didn’t start dating until college. By then he was more focused on acquiring his business degree than he was in meeting men to date. So he graduated from a state university with only a few flings under his belt and that was that; he returned to Mayville with more confidence and calmness.

 

The point is that Louis has never had a real boyfriend, but right now it feels in some slight way like he might. Not that they’ve discussed anything yet, but just that there’s something so similar to a relationship in the way Harry visits Louis at work two days after the Solstice.

 

“Loueh!”

 

Louis looks up, startled, from where he’s looping a rope around the hook on the point of a pontoon boat, securing it to the dock. He isn’t expecting to see Harry, but there he is, in all his unfairly beautiful glory.

 

He looks like a frat boy and a posh model mixed in one. It’s an impossible paradox. Muscle tank, skinny jeans, and neon yellow Nike trainers.There’s a snapback on his head, backwards, and little chocolate curls are peeking out from the sides. His skin is slightly tanner than the last time Louis saw him, cheeks and nose rosy, and Louis vaguely wonders if he has been lying out in the sun a lot. Louis finds himself wishing he was there to witness that, or maybe lie with him. He looks so stupidly attractive, Louis could smack him.

 

Only softly, though, because Louis wants to kiss him more than he wants to smack him for being too hot.

 

“Hey, young Harold,” Says Louis, because he’s weird. Also because it’s fun to tease him.

 

“My name isn’t Harold. And how do you know I’m younger than you?”

 

Louis grins, eyeing Harry as he approaches. “You told me a few days ago, when we were, _you know_.”

 

Is Harry blushing? Maybe. He looks down at his feet, refusing to meet Louis’ eyes. No, actually, he is definitely blushing. He covers his face in his hands, groaning. The sound is muffled by the skin of his palms. For someone with a lot of easy confidence, he sure seems shy.

 

Harry is so weird, Louis decides. Sitting back on his heels, he squints up at the man standing beside him before finishing up the knot. “Anyways,” He drawls, “What’s up?”

 

“Oh, uh. I was hoping you had some free time?”

 

“Free time?”

 

“Like, to uh, show me paddle boarding? Or whatever you said before, I guess. Anything, really.”

 

The grin on Louis’ face widens, even as he tries to keep it under check. It’s just a nice surprise and all, to have a cute boy visiting him at work, very obviously wanting to spend time with him.

 

Since there’s only an hour left to Louis’ shift, he gets all of his chores done quickly and then blocks out the last time for “customer instruction” which essentially means he’ll be paid to hang out with Harry on the water. With the last repairs made to the jet ski he’s been working on all day, Louis stands up and brushes the dust off his knees.

 

Harry has been a good sport, following Louis around the job for about twenty minutes now, never seeming to get bored. He asks cute questions, like what Louis is doing at any given moment and then if he could please explain what he just said because Harry doesn’t understand “boat talk.”

 

They haven’t seen each other since the solstice. By the time Liam docked the boat, Harry was asleep with his face buried in Louis’ neck. His breathing was on the verge of turning into snoring, little sniffles that tickled Louis’ skin and made him shiver. When he sort of jokingly asked Niall why Harry was so tired, Niall responded that Harry has had a busy past few months and he really needs the relaxation right about now. Not for the first time Louis wonders what this means, and what it is Harry does for an occupation that makes him so deserving of a summer-long vacation.

 

Inevitably, Louis had to wake Harry up to get him home, but he did it gently by pulling away and squeezing his shoulder. It was difficult to get rid of him even after he was awake, since he sleepily clung to Louis and refused to let go. Louis wanted to invite him inside but he knew it wasn’t the right time, so he told Harry to text him in the morning instead.

 

And he did. They started messaging each other on and off throughout the duration of the next two days. Nothing serious, no mind-blowing discussions, just silly texts filled with emojis and cringe-worthy jokes on Harry’s end. Early this morning, Harry had sent a picture of the sunrise over the lake. From the angle of the photo it looked like he was sitting on a dock somewhere with his feet in the water, the cold morning waves reaching his ankles. In return, Louis had sent a picture of Clifford playing at the shoreline, chasing after a seagull.

 

“Do you have a swim trunks?”

 

“Umm, in my car I think?”

 

Louis shoos him away to go get them as he looks over his options to decide what would be best to do today. It isn’t terribly wavy, so boating is still in the question, but in the marina he also has the options of paddle boarding or jet skiing. Eventually he decides on taking Harry out on the boat again. They can save the other activities for another day, when Louis has more confidence in Harry on the water. He seems a bit too clumsy and maybe a bit too clueless to operate any watercraft by himself. Right now at least.

 

So when Harry returns wearing the most ridiculous yellow swim trunks and a pair of expensive looking sunglasses, Louis laughs at him, endeared, and helps him on his boat.

 

“Where should I sit?”

 

“Anywhere you want, dear,” Louis laughs, gesturing grandly to the entirety of the boat. Harry rolls his eyes and sits down in the front like he did before, lifting his feet up to recline on the seat.

 

When they start moving, the boat crashes against the waves and sends a spray of water onto the deck, effectively soaking Harry. He shrieks, looking with wide eyes towards Louis who laughs at him and shrugs, saying, “It happens.”

 

Louis drives them to one of his favorite places on the lake, around a bend where the wind isn’t too bad. He sets down the anchor, watching the heavy metal plummet. The depth-finder says the water is forty-two feet deep, though it often only measures to the tops of the weeds, so it’s probably ten or fifteen feet deeper than it says. It’s a good depth for swimming, since the weeds are so far below and they have no chance of tangling their feet in them. Not only is it an unpleasant feeling, having slimy seaweed touching your toes, but it’s dangerous. And Louis doesn’t know enough about Harry’s swimming abilities to trust him by the weeds.

 

“This is so nice,” Harry muses as he removes his shirt and leans against the back of the seat, soaking up the sun. There are only a few clouds today, high in the sky and wispy enough that they don’t obstruct its rays.

 

“Agreed.”

 

“Do you do this all the time?”

 

“Pretty much all summer, yeah. I mean, whenever I have free time I take advantage of the good weather.”

 

“That sounds so peaceful. You like your job, yeah?”

 

When Louis looks over at Harry again, he sees his eyes are closed and his face is angled up towards the sun. He looks gorgeous like this, skin turning tan, yellow swim shorts, hair ruffled in the wind, strange tattoos defined in the sun, the edge of his jaw defined in shadow. Louis wants to lie next to him, rest his head on Harry’s cute tummy and take a nap.

 

“Yeah, I love it. I love being outside. And it pays fine, I mean I’m able to do what I want to do, and living with Liam lowers the cost and all. Not exactly what I pictured out of college, but my degree gives me a pretty good management position, so. I’d rather be here than in the city.”

 

“Is your family here?”

 

“Some. The little ones and my step dad, and the rest of my extended family. The older sisters just moved out to Manhattan.”

 

“Oh. Do you see them a lot?”

 

“Yeah, we do Sunday family dinners and I babysit the kids a lot.”

 

Harry sighs, sounding wistful. He rucks the hem of his shorts up to get more sun on his thighs, and Louis finds himself entranced. “That must be so nice.”

 

“What is?”

 

“Being so close to your family. Seeing them often. Any babies?”

 

Louis wants to ask but he manages not too. Harry looks peaceful right now and he doesn’t feel like disturbing to relaxation he so clearly needs. “You’re a year or two too late; they’re all toddlers or older now. Still a handful but I love ‘em.”

 

“Mm, I love babies. And toddlers. Kids in general.”

 

He laughs, taking off his shirt too. His skin is already summer-tanned, but a bit more sun won’t hurt. It feels nice on his skin, anyways. “I know you do, H. You tell me every ten minutes.”

 

They lie in the sun for a while longer, enjoying the feeling of utter relaxation. The heat isn’t unbearable since the lake breeze cools them off, but after a while it gets hot. Louis starts to sweat a bit so he sits up to flip over onto his stomach but then decides against it.

 

They aren’t too far from the shore, and the waves have brought them in closer even despite the anchor. There aren’t any houses over here, since it’s state park land that includes a campground, so the shoreline is just trees. It’s gorgeous, and peaceful, and there’s an eagle soaring high above the treeline, gliding in the breeze. Louis points it out to Harry because it would be a shame to miss it.

 

“I think I’m gonna swim,” Louis tells him, heading to the back of the boat with Harry following him.

 

“Are there fish?” He asks.

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Big fish?”

 

“Mhm. Fish with teeth, too.”

 

“What?!”

 

“They don’t like people. Just keep your toes out of the weeds and you’ll be fine.”

 

“Fuck, that’s horrifying.”

 

Louis pulls out his phone and scrolls through his photos to find the picture he wants to show Harry. He has to scroll all the way back to last summer, so it takes him some time, but eventually he finds it and shows Harry. It’s a picture of him and Zayn leaning against the side of the boat, fishing rods in hand, collectively holding a muskellunge, proud smiles on their faces. It took a double effort to haul the thing into the boat. It was huge, weighing about forty pounds, and about fifty inches in length. In other words, four feet of a big ass fish.

 

“Oh my god, what the fuck. That’s in this lake?”

 

“Mhm. Stable population and everything, so they’re everywhere. Like I said, though, they don’t like people, so.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re going in there.”

 

“I thought you were too.”

 

“Well I was before you showed me that monster of a fish.”

 

Louis pats him on the shoulder. “It’s fine, babe. You’ve been in the ocean before, yeah? There are actual sharks in there. I promise you’ll be okay.”

 

Harry squints at him, looking uneasy. Louis hands him an obnoxious life jacket. He doesn’t seem keen on wearing it.

 

“Buckle up,” Louis tells him.

 

“Why aren’t you wearing one?”

 

“I know how to swim.”

 

“So do I.”

 

“Yeah, well, you have to prove that to me first. If you drown on my watch I’ll lose my job.” He takes the life vest from Harry’s hands and puts it on him himself, buckling the strap around his back. When Louis steps back to admire his work, he sees that Harry is pouting. He looks so ridiculously cute, it’s almost too much.

 

“Will you at least wear one too? So it’s equal?”

 

“Fine,” Louis smirks, getting another hideous life jacket from beneath the seat and putting it on. Harry insists on helping him buckle it up, dragging his fingers along the back of his ribcage too intently for it to be an accident.

 

“You good now?”

 

“Better.”

 

“Alright Harold.” He grabs his hand and tugs him to the platform on the back of the boat, where there’s a tiny ladder that leads to the water. The boat sways in the waves and Harry stumbles, bumping into Louis and almost sending him into the water.

 

“Shit, sorry!”

 

“You’re fine,” Louis laughs, steadying them both. “Now, the only thing you need to know before we jump in is that-”

 

“Wait, _jump_ in?”

 

“How else are you gonna get in?”

 

“The ladder?”

 

“That’s for getting back on the boat. Now before you interrupted me I was sayin that the propeller’s right there, so don’t jump on it unless you wanna cut your legs up. Yeah?”

 

“Got it.”

 

“And don’t swim near it either.”

 

“Okay. I’m kind of nervous.”

 

“Don’t be. Not much like swimming in the ocean, but I promise it’s fun.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

“Wanna jump in together?”

 

“Uhh, you should go first.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Suit yourself.” Louis sets up to the edge, gives Harry a flirty smirk over his shoulder, and jumps into the waves.

 

The minute he crashes below the surface, everything goes calm. He has his eyes closed, but the water is dark, and quiet. Everything is muffled, all sounds like garbled voices and the rush of the wind. The life vest doesn’t let him fall far below the surface, though, and it tugs on his neck, the buoyancy pulling him up again until his head it above water. Disoriented, but rushing from the thrill of free falling through the air, he spins around until his eyes land on the boat, and on Harry still standing on the back platform.

 

He beckons Harry forward, but he doesn’t seem keen on jumping in the water like Louis. So Louis swims up to the boat, hands clasping the edge of the white platform, arms dripping from where they’re out of the water.

 

“If you come in the water, I’ll let you kiss me,” He teases, shoving the side of the boat away from him until it sways. He leans back in the water, letting his life jacket keep him afloat, and kicks his feet a little to splash at Harry.

 

“You think that’ll get me in the water?”

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

Harry smirks at him but crouches down until he’s sitting on the platform, feet hanging off the edge, toes dipping into the water. Louis swims up to him and latches onto his leg, hands wrapped around his ankle. To be a tease he kisses the bump of Harry’s knee, then down his shin.

 

“You’re insane,” Harry tells him.

 

“You should come into the water,” Louis responds, squeezing his ankle.

 

“I’m gonna get eaten by fish.”

 

“So you’re just gonna let me get eaten, then?”

 

Harry frowns at him. “So you admit they’re gonna eat you, then.”

 

“Not if you’re here to protect me.”

 

With a heavy sigh and a grunt, Harry heaves himself over the edge and into the water with a splash. When he resurfaces, he’s grinning. “Fuck, it’s cold.”

 

Louis stays still, letting the waves carry him, and watches as Harry swims over to him. His movements are a bit obstructed by the life vest, so he’s less graceful than he probably would like, but it’s cute. Harry is cute.

 

A hand latches onto his ankle which had been kicking close to the surface. He’s tugged closer to Harry, their legs entangling in the water. To keep himself from falling backwards, he hangs onto Harry’s shoulder.

 

“I’ve been told you owe me a kiss.”

 

“That’s true, I believe.”

 

Harry leans in. “This doesn’t go against the code of conduct, does it?”

 

“I don’t kiss customers. But you’re in luck; my shift ended half an hour ago.”

 

“Who do you kiss, then?”

 

“Hm,” Louis pretends to think about it, letting the waves push them closer together. He moves his hand from Harry’s shoulder and tangles it in the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close. He knows his smile is playfully coy. Their life jackets are bumping together, keeping them father asunder than Louis would prefer, but he’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about staying afloat. The green in Harry’s eyes is dizzying enough to make him forget how to swim. Finally he responds. “Cute boys, usually. You know. Especially if they’re named Harry.”

 

Harry shakes his head, laughing, and little droplets fall from his wet hair onto his skin. His eyes are bright and lovely, shimmering green with the reflection of the water and the light of the sun. In the end, he lets go of Louis’ ankle and instead cups his face in his hands, wet fingers stroking his cheeks reverently. There’s a long moment where they just stare into each other’s eyes, happy and admiring each other, before Harry leans in and presses their lips together.

 

Again, there’s that warm sensation that makes Louis dizzy. He feels comforted, at home in Harry’s arms, anchored to the spot where they’re suspended in the water, legs entangled. It’s a really, really nice feeling. Like lying out in the summer sun, or tracing the constellations in the evening.

 

Harry kisses with the heat of July and the passion of August all mixed in one. It’s only yet June, but Louis can see his summer in front of him, to be spent with the wonderful person in front of him. He’s never felt so calmed by another person’s presence before, yet here he is melting into Harry’s touch and letting him lick into his mouth, taking taking taking. Louis relinquished control at the moment Harry first touched him, and it’s nice like this, to have someone else hold him and take care of him.

 

After years of independence and fending for himself, it’s nice to feel like this, so safe and wrapped up in someone’s arms. Someone warm and sweet. Someone lovely.

  
  
  


 

 

**Friday, June 30th, 2017 - [72 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

A week after their boating escapade, Louis and Harry have managed to see each other every day without fail.

 

That day they kissed in the water for a long, long time, before messing around and acting like children playing in the water. Eventually their skin started to prune and they decided to get out, so Harry climbed up the ladder first, and then tugged Louis out of the water with just the strength of his arms and a tight grip on Louis’ hands. Louis, impressed by the show of strength, teasingly cooed over Harry’s muscles, effectively boosting his ego.

 

After that they wrapped up in towels and chilled on the boat for a while longer, before Louis docked at the marina again to drop Harry off so he could get his car. They wanted to have dinner again, but were exhausted from the day on the lake, so they decided to do it the next day.

 

The rest of the week, they spent quite a bit of time together. Harry often visited Louis at the end of his work shift, but if he didn’t show up then he would text Louis to make plans with him for dinner. He wasn’t too keen on going out, saying he doesn’t like crowds, but Louis didn’t mind since it meant Harry would come to his house and make him dinner. Sometimes Liam and Zayn would be there, so they would invite Niall too, but most of the time it was just Harry and Louis sharing a bottle of wine and whatever gourmet meal Harry cooked up for them that night.

 

They went running together three times, which unfailingly brought them a million times closer together. Running gave them a chance to get to know each other, talking for an hour or two as they got their mileage in. It was easier because the exertion brought their guards down, making them more honest. Another benefit was getting to see Harry in extremely short running shorts, the length of his thighs beautifully visible.

 

“You two seem to be getting cozy,” Liam comments on Friday night, when Louis is ransacking Liam’s closet for something to wear since he has exhausted all options of his own wardrobe. They’re going stargazing tonight, so Louis needs something comfy yet warm and practical. He debated wearing skinny jeans but eventually decided against it, since comfort has a slight priority over making his ass look good. Besides, his ass looks great in Adidas joggers too.

 

Louis rolls his eyes, disappointed in Liam’s lack of clothing options. “We are,” He agrees, no sarcasm.

 

“What are you gonna do when he leaves?”

 

“Die, probably. But that’s months away, Payno. Don’t even talk about it.”

 

“Do you think you’ll try to do long distance?”

 

“We haven’t even mentioned anything official, let alone talked about what we’re gonna do when he leaves, okay, Liam? Please, leave it alone. Just thinking about it is giving me anxiety.”

 

‘But you like him. A lot.”

 

“I do.”

 

“If you don’t do anything about it, you’re gonna lose him.”

 

“Wow, thanks, great conversation. So positive. Seriously, I feel so much more optimistic towards the future now.”

 

“Lou…”

 

“I’ll be fine, Loamy, I promise. If he just wants a summer fling that’s all I’ll be, yeah? See, I go with the flow.”

 

Liam gives him a concerned, pitying look but doesn’t say anything else. Everything’s easy with him and Zayn anyway; they’ve been been friends for years now and falling into a relationship has been easy, even if they refuse to label it.

 

Louis decides just to ignore him and move on. He still needs to find a top to wear and he’s struggling. Harry will be here in fifteen minutes if he’s on time. He seems to be one of those people who are always punctual. Louis will have to hurry.

 

He goes back to his room in search of a top to wear, and as he’s rummaging through his closet, he finds an unfamiliar fabric peeking out. Curious, he tugs on it until he can fully see what it is. That’s when he recognizes it, realizing it’s a hoodie that belongs to Harry.

 

_That stupid Randy’s Donuts hoodie_ , Louis thinks, smiling to himself. He must have left it here a couple nights ago when they came inside to watch the movie _Tangled_ for no reason other than the fact that Harry just really wanted to watch it. Somehow it ended up in the laundry and thus in Louis’ stack of clean clothes.

 

Well, it solves the problem of Louis needing a top to wear, and at the end of the night he can give it back to Harry. Two birds with one stone.

 

He finds himself oddly nervous. Not nervous, like he’s afraid something is going to go wrong, but more like the semi-pleasant butterflies that flutter in his stomach in anticipation. It’s a sensation he hasn’t experienced much before, so it’s pretty foreign but not unwelcome. Just different.

 

Harry arrives at exactly nine o’clock, of course, but Louis is ready. When he opens the door, his eyes land on Harry who is standing there wearing black running shorts and a cozy gray jumper, a knit beanie covering his head. He’s wearing pink knit socks too that go a quarter of the way up his shins and are bunched down casually.

 

“Hey, you,” Louis greets, smiling easily. “You look cute.” At the sight of Harry on his doorstep, glowing from the warm lighting inside the house, looking like an angel standing among the trees and the glisten of the gloaming sunset below the horizon, Louis feels a comforting warmth spread throughout his body. The butterflies dissipate and are replaced by an addictive sense of calm.

 

Harry doesn’t respond right away. He’s staring at Louis with wide eyes, his lips slightly parted. A flicker of emotion passes over his face but it’s gone before Louis has the time to analyze it. Yet the blush rising across his cheeks is unmistakable.

 

When Louis has had enough of this he frowns and asks, “What?”

 

He closes his mouth and swallows thickly, his hand clutching the doorframe tighter. “Umm, you just look- I mean, you. You’re wearing my sweatshirt.”

 

Louis looks down, seeing the collar which has obviously been cut by Harry and the way the strings are still tied in a bow like how he found it. “Oh. Yeah.” Harry doesn’t respond and Louis realizes he made the wrong decision so he starts slipping his arm out of the sleeve like he’s just going to take the entire thing off and hand it over to Harry, despite not wearing a shirt beneath it. “Um, sorry, I’ll give it back..?”

 

That seems to snap Harry out of whatever daze he was in. “Shit, no, wait. I didn’t mean like- Don’t take it off, please.”

 

Now Louis is really confused. “What?”

 

Harry hangs his head in shame, covering his face in his hands. He groans for a long second, making Louis laugh worriedly. When he speaks, his voice is muffled by his palms. “Please don’t take it off. You look really good in it. In my clothes.” He peeks around his hands with a hopeful but embarrassed smile.

 

_God, that’s cute_ , Louis thinks wistfully. With a smile, he steps fully outside and closes the door behind him. As a spur of the moment decision, he reaches out and hugs Harry in greeting. The warmth that radiates from him makes it worth it.

 

“I should wear your clothes more often, then.”

 

“You should. They look better on you.”

 

“Not true. But I’ll take the compliment.”

 

They get in the car with Harry as the driver and Louis as the navigator. Harry was the one who proposed the stargazing date idea, but he admitted he didn’t know where to go to get a good view of the stars. Louis told him not to worry, that he would get them somewhere nice to see the night sky.

 

So they start driving, and end up on the road where Louis first saw Harry running down the hill as he was running up. He had been wearing compression sleeves on his shins, and neon yellow running shorts. Louis smiles at the memory, still more than endeared, and feels proud for how far they’ve come since then. They’ve spent nearly every day together, which has given them more than enough time to get to know each other. From the very first day, Louis felt at ease with Harry, but now those feelings have increased tenfold. He could get lost in him.

 

Louis takes them far out to the country, away from any sort of civilization aside from the rare farmhouse. Mainly, it’s just forest and farmland on rolling hills. By the time they get to their destination, they’re so far away from everything that cell service is nonexistent, and there’s not an artificial light for miles. They stop at the highest point, and Louis tells Harry to pull over to the side of the road. It’s the only place to park; everything else is just grass.

 

“Is this someone’s property?”

 

“Nah, it’s state land. Part of the state park system. If it was private property we would be at risk of getting shot for trespassing.”

 

“That’s horrifying.”

 

“But we’re good here, promise. Wanna set up at the top of that hill? Then we’ll have a really good view.”

 

They get their things out from the trunk of Harry’s car and carry it through the grass, lugging it up the hill. It’s a bit of a walk but once they get there they are relieved to see the ardor is worth it. Harry spreads the blanket out, smoothing it out over the tall grass and doing his best to avoid the wildflowers so they don’t smash them. Meanwhile, Louis sets their bag down and opens a bottle of wine. They didn’t bring glassware so they’ll have to drink straight from the bottle. Neither one of them minds.

 

“Have you looked up yet?”

 

“No, have you?”

 

“No, not yet. We should look together.”

 

“We should. Hang on a sec.” Louis gets a good grasp on the bottle of wine, making sure to keep it upright, before he leans back, keeping his eyes closed, and urges Harry to do the same. As soon as Harry is lying down, Louis snuggles into his side, and smiles when Harry’s arm wraps around him. He breathes in the scent of him, that same fragrance of Harry he has been smelling all night through the borrowed hoodie, and sighs happily.

 

“Ready?”

 

“Yeah. Open your eyes.”

 

“...”

 

“... _Shit_.”

 

“God, that’s gorgeous.”

 

Above them is the sky full of stars. It looks like black sheet with pinpricks in it, hanging in front of a blazing fire. _The heavens_. The sky is inky black but full of stars; the more he looks, the more he sees. It feels as though constellations are appearing, making themselves visible. It’s insane, the vastness of it all, seeing the entire universe spread out before him, reaching to infinity.

 

“Fuck.”

 

“I know,” Louis agrees. “Fuck.”

 

They lie like that for a while, curled around each other, watching the stars. It’s crazy beautiful, so vast and expansive. Under the stars like this, it’s easy to feel insignificant, but not with the way Harry is holding him. Not with the way Harry runs his fingers up and down Louis’ arm in a comforting gesture that makes that strangely familiar warm feeling proliferate through his body.

 

“I never thought I’d be here right now,” Harry whispers after a long stretch of silence, with only the sound of the wind against the tall grass to keep them company.

 

“Mm,” Louis hums, snuggling closer to Harry because he’s cold and Harry is warm, always warm. A human furnace. “What did you think, then?”

 

“I dunno… I guess I thought I’d hate the town, and be all alone here. But.”

 

“But I’m here. And you always had Niall, right?”

 

“Yeah, as my manager,” Harry mutters.

 

“Oh, I hadn’t known that.”

 

“I’m sorry. I know I don’t tell you much, it’s just- I have a reason. I’m sorry-”

 

“It’s fine, Harry. I trust you, yeah? Whatever reason you have for not telling me, I’m sure it’s a good one. I trust you.”

 

When Louis looks back up at Harry he sees something he wasn’t expecting: Harry is crying. He sniffles, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, as saltwater tears trickle down his face.

 

Louis feels his heart beating rapidly in his chest at Harry’s rapid change in emotion. He doesn’t even know what to think, just that the person he cares about deeply is upset. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Fuck, nothing’s wrong,” Harry wails, throwing himself forward and burying his face in Louis’ neck, sobbing quietly.

 

“Then why are you crying, babe?”

 

“Because you’re so nice to me,” He cries, “And you _trust_ me.”

 

Louis doesn’t know what to say about that, so he just holds Harry tight and strokes his back in a way he hopes is comforting. And Harry cries and cries and cries, caught up in emotions he promises are good.

 

They drive back to Louis’ house late in the night, during a time no one should be awake. They don’t speak much but they don’t need to—the silence between them is comfortable and welcome. Louis clutches Harry’s hand the entire ride home, and doesn’t let go even as they go inside.

 

Harry doesn’t go home that night. He follows Louis down the hall and collapses with him on his bed. They curl up beneath the quilt, holding each other tightly even after they fall asleep.

  
  
  


 

 

**Tuesday, July 25th, 2017 - [47 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

“You’re so beautiful when you’re concentrating really hard.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Harry.”

 

“I’m serious, Lou. You’re beautiful.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes in place of a response, but still can’t keep himself from smiling fondly down at his hands, hoping Harry doesn’t see how pleased he is. Right now Louis is fiddling with a lure, trying to knot it to the fishing line.

 

Meanwhile Harry is lying on a towel on the raised platform at the end of the boat, tanning. He’s in his yellow swim trunks that, though nearly a month from the first time he wore them in Louis’ presence, never fail to make Louis stare a little longer than he should. He has his head pillowed on his forearms, eyes closed, and a peaceful expression on his face. His hair is still wet from when they went swimming earlier, and so is the rest of his body, little droplets covering his skin and scintillating in the sun. After a month of summertime in Chautauqua, his skin is perfectly tan and the fact that he hasn’t burned once is kind of infuriating. There’s all of this about him. Yet he’s the one calling Louis beautiful.

 

Finally he gets the lure tied, and sinks it into the water, grasping the fishing rod with a relaxed hand. He leans against the steering wheel and takes a sip of his beer, waiting for a bite on the hook.

 

He doesn’t look up for a few minutes, but when he does, he sees Harry peeking over his forearms, watching him.

 

“What?”

 

Harry closes his eyes and snuggles into his arms, not embarrassed at being caught. They’ve both had their fair share of being caught checking each other out over the past month, so it isn’t really a big deal anymore, though it does make something warm stir low in Louis’ gut.

 

“Hey love, can you pass me my journal, please?”

 

Louis obliges, reaching into the compartment beneath the steering wheel and pulling out the leather-bound journal Harry is always writing in. After Louis hands the mysterious journal to him, he strokes his hand through Harry’s hair for a while as he waits for a bite on his lure.

 

It’s crazy to think that just a month ago, they were strangers. Yet after just a few weeks together, they’ve become nearly inseparable.

 

They’ve made a habit of sleeping together, both in the sexual meaning of the term and the literal. Harry rarely ever goes back to his place with Niall. He’s almost always staying the night with Louis, whether they’re passionately going at it or they’re curled up together in bed.

 

Now Louis can’t remember life without Harry. Really, he doesn’t know what he did before Harry came into his life.

 

That should be scary, but it’s not.

 

The scary thing is that Harry is leaving in two months.

 

It happens unexpectedly. The day is pretty windy, so the waves are larger than usual, but the one that hits them right then is enormous. It sends the entire boat rocking dangerously. There’s a shriek and a splash, and then no more human sound.

 

When Louis turns around, Harry isn’t lying on the platform like Louis expects him to be. In fact, he isn’t anywhere.

 

“Harry?” Louis calls out, stomach sinking, fear seeping into his bones. He rushes over to the edge and looks around frantically. When he sees nothing but water on all sides, he panics.

 

His instincts are telling him to jump in after Harry but he doesn’t know where he fell off. He just- he has to do something.

 

Standing on the edge of the platform, he scans the water back and forth and sees no sign of Harry. He’s underwater, then, somewhere. God, Louis prays he didn’t fall on the propeller. Yet he could’ve hit his head on anything, and may be now sinking deeper and deeper towards the bottom of the lake.

 

And then Louis sees it. The journal. Its leather cover floating face up in the water.

 

There’s no other sign of Harry. Louis doesn’t know what to do. He dives in after the journal, mind reeling, and hopes Harry is near it. Prays Harry is okay.

 

The water is dark and murky as it always, like black ink tinged slightly green. The sun has disappeared behind the clouds, setting the world in a grayer hue. How fast can a body sink below the surface? Was Louis really too slow to catch a glimpse of Harry at all?

 

Is he going to die? Is he already dead?

 

Louis’ hands latch onto the journal and he clutches it too his chest tightly, kicking his feet to stay treading above the water. In his haste he got a mouthful of water from jumping in and he splutters, spinning in a circle.

 

And then he sees him. Clutching the side of the boat, coughing out water. He looks like a right mess, cheeks rosy with asphyxiation, eyes wide. Louis swims over to him as quickly as he can in the waves, with the journal in his hand. It makes it difficult, especially when he’s trying to keep the journal out of the water.

 

Harry has never told Louis what he writes in it, but he assumes it’s a diary of sorts. Harry has had it with him all summer, writing writing writing. Whatever it may be, it’s important to Harry, and Louis doesn’t want it to be ruined.

 

“Harry!” Louis calls, only halfway there, because the waves have carried Louis far away. He’s a great swimmer, has been doing this all his life, but even now he wishes he had a life jacket or something to keep him afloat because the waves are huge and he’s getting exhausted. Harry must not hear him over the wind and that makes sense.

 

It takes a long while but finally Louis gets there and grips onto the side of the boat which is moving grandly with the waves and clutches the journal to his chest. Harry is staring at him with frightened eyes, and Louis smiles weakly to show that he’s okay. With the leather-bound journal in hand, he motions for them to swim around towards the platform and get back on the boat. He waits until Harry starts swimming first before he lets go and follows after.

 

Louis’ mind is still reeling with the fact that he could’ve lost Harry. The recognition of this truth makes a scary emotion bubble beneath his skin and he feels sick just thinking about it.

 

Harry struggles up onto the platform since the ladder isn’t down. He isn’t graceful, especially with the churning waves, but he manages to lift himself up which is better than Louis could’ve done. He wastes no time before turning around and reaching out a hand for Louis to grasp.

 

Louis clings to it gratefully, gasping for breath and trying not to swallow anymore water. Harry pulls him out of the water, struggling to lift him, but Louis can’t help much with one hand, so Harry grasps him beneath his shoulder and heaves him out of the water and up onto the platform.

 

After that they both collapse around each other, heavy labored breaths drowned out by the sound of the waves. It wasn’t a particularly wavy day when they first came out, but the weather has a habit of being mercurial. Louis decides he’ll worry about driving them back later, when the problem is more immediate. For now, he just wraps Harry in his arms and clings to him, upset that he had let him go, even if just for a second. All it took was that second for a wave to send the boat rocking, forcing Harry off the platform and into the water.

 

The waves die down slightly after a few minutes, and Harry must’ve regained his breath because he stands shakily before hauling Louis into the boat. Louis’ knees feel weak from stress and fear so he hugs Harry around the waist and lets Harry hold him up.

 

“Fuck.”

 

“I’m sorry-”

 

“Not your fault. Just the waves.”

 

Harry sighs into Louis neck, breathing heavy in fatigue and weariness. “You got my journal.”

 

“I did. Dunno how many pages will be readable after this, though.”

 

“‘S okay. Thank you. I love you.”

 

The thing is, Louis doesn’t feel shocked or worried or nervous. Hearing Harry say those words calms the rapid beating of his heart to a steady lull and makes his insides feel warm. A tired smile makes up his face as he holds Harry tighter and responds truthfully, “I love you too. Please don’t ever fucking do that again.”

 

Harry hums into his throat and then starts kissing lazily at his neck, leaving no spot untouched. Louis just strokes his back and lets him do it, enjoying the feeling of Harry in his arms because just moments ago that was a luxury he didn’t have and he was so worried he had _killed_ Harry. His nails are softer from the water but still he scratches gently at Harry’s shoulders in a massage like he knows Harry likes, and rubs the bumps of his spine with his fingers.

 

“That was so scary, Harry. I’m serious.”

 

“Okay,” Harry breathes against his skin, backing up until he’s sitting on one of the seats and situating Louis on top of him. Finally he pulls away from his ministrations on Louis’ neck, and Louis plants his hands firmly on Harry’s shoulders to steady himself with the sway of the boat and the waves that rock the two of them together.

 

Harry cups the back of his neck with his palm and brings Louis down to his lips. It feels insistent, and protective, and caring. Like they’re both trying to make sure the other is okay.

 

They kiss forever, until the sun begins to set and the waves die down enough for them to drive back home.

  
  
  


 

 

**Sunday, July 30th, 2017 - [42 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

Louis isn’t the biggest fan of celebrity gossip, but it’s better than watching infomercials and nothing else is on, so he settles with E!News as he curls up into the couch with a cup of tea.

 

He isn’t paying any attention, just mindlessly staring at the screen, until. Well. Until he sees someone familiar.

 

At first it doesn’t make sense. Louis stares at the picture on screen and he’s thinking oh, one of those girls from the scavenger hunt that day at the solstice festival is famous. But that really doesn’t make any sense, because they aren’t talking about a girl. They’re talking about someone named Harry Styles.

 

_I know a guy named Harry_ , Louis thinks to himself, staring dumbly at the screen where there’s a picture of the Harry he knows, standing at the festival, his arm loosely wrapped around the shoulders of a girl who is smiling widely. The lady reading the celebrity news seems to be calling the Harry Louis knows ‘Harry Styles.’

 

The thing is, Louis knows who Harry Styles is. He’s a british solo artist who made it big after coming in third on X Factor, about half a decade ago. He’s been insanely popular ever since. Louis has never seen said Harry Styles, but he always hears his songs on the radio. Good, catchy songs. Louis doesn’t mind them.

 

Trying his hardest to dispel his puzzlement, he listens to what the lady is saying. Due to his confusion, he misses most of what she says, but catches phrases like “summer getaway,” and “western New York,” and “world tour in three months.”

 

Then the picture from the festival flashes away and is replaced by a new picture. One that’s much clearer, obviously taken with a professional camera.

 

He’s standing there. On the red carpet. Wearing a gorgeous gray suit with slightly ridiculous burgundy heeled boots. There’s a big sign behind him that says DUNKIRK in bold letters.

 

_Dunkirk_. Louis likes that movie. He saw it with Liam last spring when it came out. The only theater in Mayville is a tiny little place that only shows one movie at a time, but it’s always cozy and cute and the aesthetic of it all makes for a great Instagram post. Louis usually doesn’t like war movies, but he was pleasantly surprised to find there was no gore. Besides, all the actors were attractive.

 

The E!News anchor is already off discussing another celebrity. Louis is still staring off into space, dumbfounded.

 

He wonders how he hadn’t realized this sooner.

 

Just at that moment, Liam comes into the room. Usually he’s an early riser but whenever he’s up late, going at it with Zayn no doubt, he sleeps in late. Last night was one of those nights. Now he’s walking into the living room, squinting in the sunlight streaming in from the floor-length windows, and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

 

“Liam.”

 

“What?”

 

“You have to hear this. It’s really funny.”

 

Liam makes a noncommittal sound, which Louis takes as the go-ahead.

 

“Liam. Harry Styles at my ass last night.”

 

He scrunches up his face in vague disgust, cringing. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

Louis starts giggling. He finds he can’t stop. He might be going into hysterics.  “No, Liam. You don’t get it. _Harry Styles_ ate my ass last night.”

 

Liam stares dully at him. “Are you on drugs?”

 

“Harry Styles was in our house last night and we fucked! We’ve been fucking for months!”

 

“Louis, what the fuck-”

 

“Wait, hang on. Don’t say anything.” Louis googles Harry Styles and finds a plethora of pictures of the man who ate his ass last night. He’s on the verge of having a panic attack, despite the fact that he’s cackling loudly like the situation is funny. It would be, if he wasn’t so confused. It feels as though his entire world has been flipped upside down.

 

_He’s famous. The person I’m in love with is famous and he never even told me…_

 

Louis hands his phone over to Liam. It takes significantly less time for Liam to understand than for Louis to understand.

 

“Oh Lou…”

 

“How come none of us recognized him?”

 

“Dunno. I guess I never really knew what he looked like. I only vaguely heard of him.”

 

Louis feels like sinking into the couch. Liam’s right. “My sisters were talking about him over Christmas.”

 

“Yeah, huh. That’s so fucking weird.”

 

“Why do you think he didn’t tell me?”

 

“Same reason he came all the way out here, probably. Just needs some space I bet. Wants to get away from the screaming fans and paparazzi.”

 

“I don’t blame him.”

 

“Good, you shouldn’t.”

 

Louis sighs, relaxing back on the couch and turning the TV off. He wonders how long it would’ve taken him to realize who Harry really was, if he hadn’t decided to watch E!News. He wonders if Harry would’ve told him at all, or if he just would’ve left at the end of summer without another word. Even though just a few days ago they were kissing on the boat telling each other _I love you_.

 

It makes sense though. All of it. Suddenly Louis sees the past two months with a new sense of clarity. It feels like such a relief, after being kept in the dark for so long.

 

He thinks back to the night he first met Harry at Guppy’s, only a day after they first saw each other while running. The restaurant had been quite crowded as usual and Louis remembers thinking Harry was looking around the place like he was paranoid someone was going to recognize him.

 

Louis tries to recall if he said anything embarrassing to _Harry Styles_ without realizing, but all he remembers is how warm that night felt, and all the subsequent nights too. They had joked around easily at the bar and then met each other again after dinner to go to Barney’s together.

 

Oh god. Louis had been in Harry Styles’ car. Even worse, he had kissed Harry Styles against a tree the very night he first met him, discounting the day previous when they saw each other while running. And then… Oh no. Oh god. Louis had fucked Harry Styles on the floor of his boat.

 

Louis covers his face in his hands, a million emotions running through him. One of them is embarrassment.

 

“Liam, I can’t believe…”

 

Liam pats him on the shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay, bro. You’re fine.”

 

“What am I gonna do?”

 

“Just be honest and tell him you just found out. He’ll think it’s funny.”

 

“But what if he- What if he wanted something more anonymous and now that I know who he is, he doesn’t want to see me anymore?”

 

“I highly doubt that, mate. You’ll be fine. Just go talk to him in person.”

 

Louis groans. He hadn’t even known the famous Harry Styles was gay. Or, well, any sexuality other than straight. It strikes him that maybe he’s still in the closet.

 

So he spends the day delaying the inevitable, and instead stalks Harry on the Internet.

 

Hours later, Louis is about finished with work at the marina, when he shows up, exactly at the time he always shows up. It’s been a bit of a habit, the two of them hanging out on the water together after Louis gets off work.

 

Harry approaches him, wearing his yellow swim trunks and a heathered white t-shirt. His tattoos are visible through the fabric, the birds and the moth and the laurels. He stops when he’s standing really close to Louis who is repairing another jet ski. Louis sits back on his heels and comes face to face with the tiger tattoo on Harry’s bare thigh. Harry Styles has a tiger tattoo on his thigh.

 

Louis sighs. Harry notices.

 

“What?”

 

“I’ll tell you when we’re on the water. Wanna go jet skiing?”

 

When Louis looks up, he catches Harry’s lips widen into a grin. It’s breathtaking, even at this angle.

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

Louis finishes his work in silence before packing up his tools and depositing them inside. Meanwhile Harry sits at the edge of the dock and swirls his toes through the water. On the way back, Louis removes his shirt and grabs two life vests. These ones are different from the ugly orange ones on the boat; since there’s an extremely higher chance they’ll fall of the jet skis than the boat, they need something practical. Louis buckles the four clips on his own and tightens the strings before helping Harry into his.

 

They get to work lowering two jet skis to the water. This happens in silence. In fact, they get all the way out to their spot around the bend, where there are no houses and only trees, before they say another word. It’s a peaceful silence, though. There’s nothing strained about it.

 

They glide to a halt and Louis reaches a hand out to grasp at Harry’s arm to keep them from drifting apart.

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

Louis loops a rope around the hook on the front of Harry’s jet ski to the hook on the front of Louis’. Then he clambers onto Harry’s jet ski, sitting in front of him on the seat, but facing Harry. They’re very close. Louis wonders why he thought moving this close to Harry was a good idea. But then he leans in and locks their lips together, licking into Louis’ mouth, and any regret melts away.

 

When they break apart for breath, Louis kisses Harry on the nose and then pulls away. “I learned something new today.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you wanna hear it?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Louis presses his palm to Harry’s thigh gently, trying not to pay any notice to the way Harry nudges his leg up into Louis’ grasp like he wants him to touch him more. He sighs. It’s now or never. “You’re famous.”

 

Harry doesn’t pull away like Louis expected him to. He does stiffen a little, but Louis only notices because he’s paying close attention. “I’m sorry for not-”

 

Louis kisses him to keep him quiet. “I get it. I understand why you didn’t tell me, and I respect your decision. It’s okay.”

 

“Really?”

 

Louis shrugs. “I would probably do the same thing, if I were you. It makes sense. I don’t judge. You just wanted a normal life for a few months.”

 

Harry visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping back to their original position. He slings his arms around Louis’ neck and pulls him close. “I love you.”

 

“Are you closeted?” Louis asks, because he has to. Even if he already knows.

 

“Yes,” Harry sighs, keeping his face tucked into Louis neck. He does that a lot. It’s more than cute.

 

“You’re so free with me, though, you’re so-”

 

“It’s a small town. Most people don’t know who I am. I have more freedom here.”

 

“But having an actual boyfriend is out of the question?”

 

“You’re my boyfriend.”

 

Louis closes his eyes and holds Harry closer. They’ve never talked about labels before. “You know what I mean.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“So what do we do when at the end of summer? When you have to leave? Are we gonna- Are we going to try?”

 

They’re hugging each other as close as they can get with their life jackets bumping together in between them. Louis’ heart feels full but it’s aching in anticipation and uncertainty. When the summer ends…

 

“I love you,” Harry says finally. “You know that. And I… I’m not stupid enough to just let go of something like this. Something this great. It’s just. It’s a lot to deal with and I understand if you don’t wanna. There’s a lot of… baggage, I guess, and then you throw in long-distance on top of it and it’s nearly impossible. So I understand if you wanna end it so you don’t want to have to deal with the mess that is my life. I get it.”

 

Louis starts unbuckling Harry’s life vest. Safety be damned, he needs to touch him right now. He needs to feel Harry’s skin beneath his palms, needs to feel how real this is. He slides the vest down Harry’s arms and puts his hands on his chest, one palm above his heart.

 

“I love you,” He tells Harry very seriously, looking into his green eyes which are bright but worried. “I love you and I don’t want to give this up, even if it’ll be hard. I think… I mean, we’re adults, we can handle it. We can figure it out. I just. I don’t want to lose you, okay? I love you, H.”

 

“Okay. Alright… It’s just, it’ll get hard. And if you wanna, like, end it before it gets more complicated I won’t be mad or upset. I mean, I’ll be upset but not at you-”

 

“Harry, it’s fine. I want us to be together. I want us to try this.”

 

“Okay. Okay.”

 

“Stop worrying. Just kiss me, okay?”

 

He does.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

**Saturday, August 26th, 2017 - [15 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

They haven’t talked much about Harry’s fame since that day.

 

Louis never brings it up out of fear of being rude. Harry rarely brings it up because he doesn’t want to make Louis nervous. As a result they almost never talk about it. Even though they should, because they need to be on the same page. Louis is pretty sure they aren’t on the same page.

 

It takes until this day in late August for Louis to even ask to listen to some of Harry’s music.

 

When he asks, Harry pales.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“I mean, if you’re okay with it. I’m just curious. It’s fine if you don’t want to. I just noticed you never really sing in front of me, and you said singing is your favorite thing to do, so.”

 

“You remember that?”

 

Louis is affronted. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“It’s just. We were both kind of preoccupied with… things.” It’s been nearly three months and Harry still acts embarrassed to bring up sex.

 

So Louis makes it his mission to embarrass him more. He smirks a little, laughing. “You mean when you had my dick up your ass? When you were fucking yourself on me?”

 

“Yes. Shut up.”

 

Louis laughs at him a little more, leaning back and resting his weight on his arms behind him. They’re sitting out on a blanket set up on the grassy hill before the water. Louis can see the lights of his house behind them, where Liam and Zayn are probably wreaking havoc. In front of them is the lake, shimmering with the reflection of the moon.

 

“You have your guitar, right? I’d love to hear you play. You don’t have to sing if you don’t want.”

 

Harry smiles gratefully and kisses him on the corner of his lips. “I’ll be right back.”

 

He returns a few minutes with a guitar in his hands, sitting down beside Louis again. Louis gives him the space he needs to continue, waiting patiently.

 

That’s how they spend the remainder of the evening. Beside the lake and beneath the stars, sitting on a blanket in the grass. Harry strums at his guitar with the disclaimer that he’s self-taught and isn’t the best player there is, but Louis is so impressed at the music Harry makes he’s nearly brought to tears.

 

When Harry begins to sing, Louis considers sinking into the earth, or maybe ascending to heaven. His voice is beautiful. Low and deep, raspy and slow.

 

Louis smiles at him and lets Harry sing to him until he runs out of songs. By then, he’s so in love he feels like he might turn to dust and blow away in the summer breeze.

  
  
  


 

 

**Tuesday, September 5th, 2017 - [5 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

Each day that passes brings them closer to their separation.

 

Louis feels vaguely as though he’s spiralling into shallow dread. He doesn’t want Harry to leave so he keeps pushing the thought onto the backburner of his mind. But it’s always there.

 

Louis doesn’t know anything of where Harry is going. All he knows is the promise of world tour from the morning he was watching E!News. Harry doesn’t mention it.

 

They make love more often, which seems kind of impossible since they had been doing it pretty often before. But now it seems Harry’s upcoming departure which creeps closer and closer each day is making them both more passionate, more desperate to love each other before Harry leaves.

 

They’re lying together on the deck of the pool at the condominium complex that’s near Louis’ house. They aren’t supposed to be there, since it’s really for the inhabitants of the condos only, but the gate was open and they decided to check it out. Now they’re lying on lounge chairs in the sun, holding hands over the small space between them.

 

The thing is, Louis wants to talk about it. He can feel words ready to bubble out of his mouth with how much he needs to discuss everything with Harry. He just, he needs to express himself. He needs to convey his feelings because he can’t keep bottling them up.

 

Yet Harry seems keen on doing just that. He talks to Louis less and less about actual important topics such as the fact that they’ll be separated in less than a week. This, however, doesn’t mean he’s quiet, really. It just means that whatever he says is so surface-level, there’s no room for real discussion of their future.

 

It’s making Louis uncomfortable, making his throat itch like he wants to scream at Harry just to get him to talk. He manages to control himself, of course, but sometimes just barely.

 

Like right now, when Louis is trying to edge into the topic to get Harry to talk about it.

 

He begins tactfully. “So when I saw you taking pictures with those girls, they were asking you because they’re your fans?”

 

"Right."

 

"And when we were in the car and you turned the radio off really quickly because you said you didn't like the song? Was that your song and you didn't want me to recognize it?"

 

Harry keeps his eyes closed, face tilted towards the sun above them. Still, he somehow looks reluctant to speak. “Yeah. Sorry about lying to you.”

 

“It’s fine. I knew you weren’t telling the truth then; I just didn’t know what it was. It’s fine.”

 

Harry doesn’t respond aside from stroking the back of Louis’ hand with the pad of his thumb.

 

Louis lets him get away with not speaking about it. For now.

  
  
  


 

 

**Friday, September 8th, 2017 - [2 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

Louis is panicking, but only internally. He considers himself quite the skilled actor, since he’s not letting the internal panic show. Hopefully. Maybe it’s written all over his face but everyone is too kind to comment on it.

 

Especially Harry. Louis knows Harry can tell how panicked he is, but he politely doesn’t mention it, and instead kisses Louis like they have all the time in the world.

 

The thing is, the don’t.

 

The thing is, Harry is leaving in two days.

 

The thing is, they haven’t even talked about it.

 

There’s only one reason why Louis knows Harry is leaving on Sunday, and it’s because last week a bunch of things fell out of Harry’s bag, onto the floor of Louis’ bedroom. These assorted items that scattered on the floor included Harry’s passport, and also a bunch of papers. The paper on the top was a printed reminder for his flight. Which departs on Sunday. 2:30 PM. At JFK airport.

 

That was when the panic started, only small at first but still there. It had dissipated quite a bit when he crawled back into bed and Harry pressed him into the mattress, jacking them off with his big hand wrapped around both of them.

 

But now it’s a week later and Louis is suffering on the inside, trying his hardest not to let the dread or worry show on his face. The feeling doesn’t go away, not even when he’s wrapped up in Harry’s arms.

 

“Hey Harry,” Louis whispers on that Friday morning, coming up behind him where he’s sitting on the porch and fiddling with his guitar. It’s so domestic, it makes his heart ache to see Harry here, looking out over the water as the sunrises. It’s early in the morning, too early for Louis to be awake, but he’s nervous.

 

“Good morning, sweet creature,” He responds just as softly, turning away from his concentration on the water and his guitar to press a kiss to Louis’ cheek. “Sleep well?”

 

“Mhm,” Louis lies, feeling tingly from how loving Harry is towards him. Ever since Louis started calling him babe and baby, Harry has been trying out a plethora of endearments. He hasn’t stuck with one, always changing it up, except for _sweet creature_.

 

It’s such a Harry thing to say, Louis thinks, as he sits down on the empty space beside Harry and leans into his side.

 

The first time Harry called him that, they had been messing around on the boat during sunset, drinking wine and playing with sparklers. It was the Fourth of July, so the sparklers were warranted, and they were waiting on the boat for the fireworks display later that evening.

 

Louis had been fiddling with his lighter when he looked over and saw Harry watching him with that reverential look on his face. When Louis called him out on it, Harry just smiled, said he was beautiful, and called him sweet creature.

 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Louis whispers in a moment of weakness. Nonetheless, it’s a relief to get the words out from where they had been caught in his throat for weeks on end. He doesn’t regret them. So he says it again. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

 

The strumming stops abruptly but Harry doesn’t look over at him yet. He keeps his eyes on the water, on the world encompassed by gloaming purple light.

 

“What am I going to do without you?” Louis says to the sky.

 

Harry sets his guitar down gently on the wood of the porch floor. His movements are calculated and careful, like he’s afraid to disturb the atmosphere or startle Louis. That’s why it takes him a bit of time before his arms are around Louis in a tight, encompassing embrace. When Louis feels Harry’s heart beating against his shoulder due to the awkward angle, he sighs in bated relief and sinks closer to him. Yet the dread doesn’t dull, and neither does the panic.

 

Unlike Louis, Harry remains quiet. His lips are pressed tightly together and he doesn’t say a single word.

 

But Louis needs to hear him. Louis needs to hear Harry reassure him, even if the reassurance is fake. He needs it like he needs air, like he needs life. He needs it so badly, he’s crumbling without it.

 

“Please say something,” Louis finally begs, feeling small in Harry’s arms. How can he be so calm? How can he be so unaffected?

 

Harry allows Louis to nuzzle into his neck, seeking warmth and affection. He doesn’t return the touch like he usually does, but he holds Louis tightly and doesn’t let go. When he speaks, his voice sounds detached, far away. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

It’s during times like this when Louis feels as though he’s being dramatic. Is he? He’s unable to tell, but he knows this sickening feeling of dread all too well for it to be fake or contrived. Harry is so calm about leaving in two days and Louis is a right mess. Is he crazy, or just realistic? Harry leaving is going to change everything. The only tie left between them will be long-distance communication, and from the way they’re failing to communicate right now, the prospects seem slim. But Louis isn’t ready yet to let Harry go.

 

Three months of spending nearly every day together, and this is how he feels. Is it too soon to feel this way? To feel so much love, he can hardly breathe when it’s just about to be taken away?

 

Harry is the first person Louis has ever fallen in love with, he’s certain, so he has nothing to compare the feeling to. It comes with no benchmark, no instruction manual, and no guide. No map, either, and he’s left to flounder alone, hopelessly lost. He wouldn’t have to be alone if Harry would just talk to him, but Harry seems keen on ignoring their imminent separation.

 

Louis knows pretending it doesn’t exist will get them nowhere. He doesn’t know how to tell Harry this so he just lets Harry hold him and pretend everything is fine. They have today and tomorrow together, and that’s it. No more days after that. All out of days.

 

So he tries to pull it together and play the game like Harry, using the “If I Just Ignore It, Maybe It’ll Go Away” strategy. It doesn’t work, but Louis tries to deceive himself.

 

They have a relatively normal day, spending the entirety of it together since Louis is off work today and tomorrow. They go for a run together in the morning, and then shower together once they return home. After that it’s coffee with breakfast on the porch, and then a day spent on the boat. Harry lies in the sun while Louis fishes.

 

The entire time, Louis is more distracted by Harry than anything else, and at one point he even takes his lure out of the water because he hadn’t been paying attention to it anyway. He gazes unabashedly at the man before him, who is napping on the platform with his face buried in his forearms.

 

He’s tan now, a million times more so than the day Louis first saw him. That’s what a summer on the lake will do, especially to a person like Harry who tans evenly and doesn’t burn. He looks less like an English rose and now more like a summer-tanned American, with his wind-swept hair ruffled and messy.

 

They’ve come a long way, the two of them, and now it feels as though everything is going to end. Three months of spending every waking second with each other and this is what Louis gets, a pseudo-boyfriend who refuses to talk about that fact that he’s leaving in forty-eight hours.

 

That day in July when they were sitting on the jet ski together, talking about their future, now seems like an oasis of good communication and happy, excited thoughts. Louis had promised Harry he wouldn’t be scared away by long-distance or the difficulties of Harry’s fame, but they haven’t talked about it since then. Louis feels as though whatever they talked about is now a long-forgotten deal. Things have changed. Harry started ignoring everything.

 

Later in the evening they get back to the house after a pleasant but conversation-less dinner at Guppy’s. It had been too loud in the crowded restaurant to hold a conversation anyways, so mostly they just drank beer and shared their food. At Harry’s request, they sat beside each other on the same side of the table instead of across from each other. It slightly calmed Louis to know that Harry still wanted to be close to him, if only physically.

 

Now back at home, Louis lets Harry fuck him. It’s something they haven’t done all summer, since neither one of them has shown much interest in switching roles.

 

But tonight it feels right, and Louis is desperate for it. He’s desperate to feel Harry inside of him, because he wants Harry everywhere, he wants Harry to encompass him completely, never let him go. It’s impossible, he knows, but tonight he wants to be smothered in this fantasy world and just forget the worry for a little while.

 

Harry takes good care of him, opening him up with his fingers slowly until he burns with want and need. When he’s finally finished, long after Louis began gasping that he was ready, Harry pushes himself inside so slowly, the fire builds between them until it encompasses them. His hands press Louis’ hips into the mattress, his grip hard and unforgiving. When he moves out it’s slow and sweet, but punishing in the intensity of it, and there’s a tick in his jaw even as he brings Louis to the edge and follows closely after with his own orgasm.

 

He kisses Louis passionately, licking into his mouth as Louis lies pliant and obedient beneath him, and takes everything he wants. He takes and takes and takes, not even noticing that Louis is crying and has been for a while.

 

When he pulls away after he’s satisfied he finally sees the tears, and kisses them off Louis’ face, saltwater smearing his kiss-bitten lips. Louis feels stupid and pathetic, all around _sad_ , and it makes him ache.

 

He falls asleep like that, still crying and aching with Harry on top of him, kissing all over his face, not saying a word.

  
  
  


 

 

**Saturday, September 9th, 2017 - [1 DAY BEFORE]**

 

 

On their last full day together, they don’t leave their bed.

 

_My bed,_  Louis reminds himself sadly, desperately trying to school his mind into functioning how it used to before he fell in love with Harry and his life fell to pieces. It’s difficult now for him to think of everything in his life that Harry has touched, and then somehow try to separate those things from him. It’s difficult but he has to do it. If not, he’ll suffer more than he already is.

 

They wake up early in the morning, still naked and sticky from the previous night. Harry has since rolled off Louis, but his arm is lying heavy on top of Louis’ come-covered stomach. His hand is gripping at Louis’ hip tightly, like he’s afraid he’s going to leave him in his sleep. Even when his eyelashes flutter open and he blinks slowly, he doesn’t let go.

 

Louis wants to laugh at the irony is that Harry is the one who is leaving, but he knows it would sound too bitter so he just keeps his mouth shut and pretends to fall back asleep. It’s a good idea, he soon realizes, because it awards him two more hours in bed with Harry holding him tightly.

 

When they’re both up later, Harry goes downstairs for a little while and brings back sandwiches. They eat in bed, making small talk and mentioning nothing else. They very decidedly do not speak about the following day.

 

In the afternoon, Harry brings his guitar to bed and starts singing and strumming, starting over every time he messes up. It takes Louis a long time to realize he’s practicing for tour.

 

“Am I driving you to the airport?” Louis finally asks, voice definite. He feels so stupid and exhausted and sad.

 

Harry looks up, startled, from where he was jotting down some chords in his new journal.

 

The other journal, the one he brought with him here and then dropped in the lake so many days ago, has been recovered but the pages are too crinkley to write in it. Still, the words that had already been scribed onto the pages remain visible, if only slightly faded and a bit more difficult to read. Harry had been so worried, seeing as all the songs he has written in the past year originate in that leather-bound journal. Louis had been the one to save it.

 

“Umm, my friend is picking Niall and me up, actually.”

 

“Oh, okay.” Louis tries not to let it bother him that Harry called someone else to get him to the airport. He tries to justify it by considering that maybe Harry has had this planned for months, but in the end he just gives up, not caring.

 

For dinner, Harry makes steak fajitas. This is the one time Louis leaves the bed, first to shower and wash the previous night’s come and sweat away, which he had been procrastinating. Then he joins Harry on the patio, trying to help him set up for dinner but eventually just sitting down at the table once Harry shoos him away enough.

 

Harry brings out a plate for each of them and a bottle of wine. The glasses and silverware are already on the table. There’s a candle in the center too, and when Harry asks to borrow his lighter Louis lights it himself.

 

He doesn’t want to be the one to make the first move. He wants Harry to be the one to initiate the conversation they so desperately need to have. Yet Harry seems keen on ignoring it all night. Ignoring it until the bitter end.

 

Louis should say something. He _knows_ he should. But… if Harry doesn’t even mention the fact that he’s leaving tomorrow, then something is wrong. And that’s on Harry. Not on Louis. Louis is the one making the effort and Harry is just… ignoring the only conflict they’ve faced thus far.

 

So Harry doesn’t mention it. Which means neither does Louis. So they spend the entirety of their dinner talking about everything except the exact topic they really need to discuss.

 

By the end of it, Louis is so distressed and upset, he has barely touched any of his dinner. It has nothing to do with Harry’s chef skills; in fact his food is amazing and it’s definitely up there on the list of things Louis will miss when Harry leaves.

 

Also on the list is having someone to cuddle and kiss beneath the stars, or during the sunrise, or honestly whenever he feels like it. Someone to love, too. He’ll definitely miss having someone to love.

 

Fuck. Louis wants to scream at Harry who seems so calm and unbothered. Is he really not upset at all that he’s leaving tomorrow and they may never see each other again? With the current state of affairs, it seems quite possible that they will never see each other again.

 

Maybe that’s what Harry wants. Maybe that was his goal all along. Maybe he just wanted a summer fling and Louis is ruining his plans by being clingy. Harry’s summer cling, not fling. Louis has to press his lips together tightly in order to keep the bitter laughter from bubbling out. He’s on the verge of hysteria and Harry is sitting across from him, sipping wine and commenting on the weather.

 

So if he just wanted a fling, why would he lie and say he loved Louis?

 

None of it makes sense. The confusion and stress is giving Louis a headache. He feels the distinct urge to take the stairs down the deck and collapse down to the grass. Sink into the earth, back where he came from.

 

When they’re finished with dinner, Harry insists on clearing the table and doing the dishes later. Usually Louis does the dishes but he supposes tonight is special, and he’s not in the mood to argue with Harry.

 

Harry returns in a few moments and by then the sun is already below the horizon. It’s gloaming hour now, the time before it gets fully dark, and everything glows. The candle casts shadows on his face when he sits down again. He reaches his arms across the table and grasps Louis’ hands tightly in his own.

 

Louis looks up, startled, and wonders if this is when Harry will finally acknowledge his inevitable departure.

 

But he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all. As the evening fades to darkness he stares down at his hands engulfing Louis’ smaller ones and washes the candlelight flicker over their skin.

 

Louis thinks of that cold way Harry said _it’s going to be okay_. It was placation, that’s all. Just something to get Louis to shut up and stop begging him to say something.

 

So not for the first time, Louis feels pathetic. Especially looking at his hands covered by Harry’s massive ones. It’s not a good feeling.

 

_Say something, Harry!_ Louis screams internally. _Say something because you’re running out of time and you’ll be gone in less than a day! Fucking say something!_

 

He doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. From what Louis has seen so far, his life is defined by inaction. Nothing but waiting for someone else to make the first move.

 

The thing is, Louis has already made the first move in this scenario, a million times over. He has casually brought up the topic of the day Harry leaves more times than he can count on his fingers. Yet Harry has never taken the bait, has never taken the conversation any further. Louis refuses to wield the blame.

 

They sleep beneath the stars that night as one last hoorah. Tomorrow is the unofficial end of summer, to Louis at least, and he feels the sorrow already.

  
  
  


 

 

**Sunday, September 10th, 2017 - [0 DAYS BEFORE]**

 

 

They wake up at dawn, hands entangled between them. Harry is clutching him so tightly it hurts.

 

Louis sits up. Harry tugs him onto his lap.

 

They kiss until the sun rises.

  
  
  


 

 

…

  
  
  


 

 

At eight o’clock, Harry hugs Louis goodbye. He kisses the top of his head and tells him to be good.

 

“Call me,” Louis urges, no short of begging. “Please call me when you get in so I know you got there safe. Or text me at least. _Please_.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Promise me.”

 

“I promise, Lou. See you.”

 

Louis waves him goodbye. There’s nothing left to do except say _I love you_ but he isn’t sure if he’s allowed those three words anymore. Eventually he settles for, “Yeah, see you.”

 

He’s too upset to watch Harry leave.

  
  
  


 

 

**Sunday, September 10th, 2017 - [0 DAYS AFTER]**

 

 

The house is empty. So is Louis’ mind. And his heart.

 

When he goes back inside, Liam is there, waiting for him with open arms.

 

“Tell me what happened,” He says once Louis has effectively collapsed into his arms, exhausted and sad. He feels like he’s been hit by a freight train.

 

Louis sighs. “Okay. But I need tea first.”

 

Ten minutes later and they’re sitting on the docks outside, wrapped up in heavy blankets. It’s chilly because of the wind, and the sky is gray. It matches Louis’ mood. Like a storm inside his heart.

 

“So he just, like, didn’t say anything about it? How? Didn’t you bring it up?”

 

“I know, right? It was so fucking weird. Every time I brought it up he just ignored me or changed the subject. And then he just fucking left.” Louis sighs heavily again, wrapping his hands around his mug of tea. The warmth is the only comfort he feels right now. That, and talking to Liam. He stares out at the murky gray water and sighs again. He’s been sighing a lot lately. “I hate him.”

 

“You don’t hate him.”

 

“God damn you for always being right,” Louis grumbles. “I love him.”

 

“I know you do, bro. I know you do.”

  
  
  
  


 

 

**Friday, September 22nd, 2017 - [12 DAYS AFTER]**

 

 

A little less than two weeks ago, Harry left Louis for good, with no more than a kiss to the forehead and an order to be good. Whatever that means. Louis didn’t care though, all he wanted was a call or even a text from Harry saying he was okay, that his flight made it and he was wherever the fuck he was going. Louis didn’t know.

 

He ended up getting a text. A measly text. One word, and nothing else.

 

From Harold <3 at 8:49 PM: _here_

 

Louis didn’t text back. Harry’s poor excuse of a message didn’t warrant a response.

 

Now, twelve days later, he kind of wishes he had said _something_. Anything. Even just a random emoji to keep the conversation going. Not that there was any conversation to begin with. Not like the word conversation is a part of Harry Styles’ vocabulary.

 

It’s twelve days later and it’s too late for Louis to respond to the stupid fucking text message, no matter how badly he wants to do so.

 

In reality all he wants is an explanation. Louis asking a simple _why?_ would probably suffice. Even just a question mark would get the point across.

 

No matter. The point is that Louis tries to go back to his old life, but he soon finds he can’t. He can’t fucking do it, because he realizes that he doesn’t remember what he used to do, before Harry fucking Styles showed up and ruined his life.

 

Work becomes dull and boring, the hours dragging by lacksadazically. Lethargically. Every L word, except for the word love. Always except for love. He goes through the motions because he has to, because this is the livelihood he chose for himself and he isn’t going to let one man ruin everything.

 

He fixes about a million broken jet skis within the first two weeks after Harry’s departure, and it turns into some sort of cathartic therapy. The best part is when he gets to replace an old part with a new one that’s shiny and clean. Louis feels like he needs to find a way to somehow replicate this action in his own life.

 

He can’t think of a way to do it, though. Nothing’s broken, just, missing.

 

Actually, wait. Now that he’s thinking about it, that should do just fine. Nothing’s broken. Only missing. Replace the old shitty non-communicative part with something new.

 

In other words, he goes searching for another boyfriend.

  
  
  


 

 

**Tuesday, October 31st, 2017 - [50 DAYS AFTER]**

 

 

Since their house is practically in the middle of nowhere, no kids ever come to the door on Halloween.

 

This means that Louis and Liam turn the lights off inside, lock up the doors, and head out for the night.

 

Louis is wearing all black in the spirit of Halloween. He’s also wearing his tightest black jeans in the spirit of pulling. His heart is aching, but that’s a normal feeling and one that he’s used to now. He pulls on his combat boots, lacing them up loosely, and admires himself in the mirror before following Liam out to the car.

 

They’re meeting Zayn at Guppy’s. When they get there Louis goes straight to the bar and orders the halloween special, a drink called The Black Cat. He’s disappointed to find that the drink is actually a diaphanous pink color and not black. He downs it anyways, just barely noticing its taste. Cherry and cranberry mixed with vodka. Harry would like it.

 

Louis pushes the thought from his mind and orders a different drink. Anything that reminds him of he-who-must-not-be-named is off-limits. Tonight, at least. He’ll let himself wallow in the morning, hungover and alone.

 

So it’s been fifty days, and Louis is suffering. He’s also counting the days because he’s insane and unstable. It’s not a healthy habit but he can’t help it. Every time he hears the date, he does the quick math to determine how long he’s been living this awful half life. The days keep piling up. He thinks he should be getting better by now.

 

It doesn’t help that they don’t talk, and haven’t talked since Harry’s stupid _here_ text. In reality, Harry is quite lucky that Louis has no idea where he is right now. Otherwise he might find himself getting punched in the face. Or at least screamed at for a good ten minutes.

 

Okay, so it’s a lie that Louis doesn’t know where Harry is right now. He’s in the UK right now. London yesterday, Manchester tomorrow. Louis wonders which city he’s at, or if he’s somewhere in between. He’ll never find out.

 

It also doesn’t help that the weather is rapidly declining, turning cold and moody. Usually Louis loves autumn. He thinks it’s the most beautiful season of all. Yet not this year. This year, autumn is bleak. Autumn is hell, but colder. Autumn is a wasteland.

 

The leaves are beautiful, though. Even in the ugliest hour of the day, after the sun has set too early and the sky is too cloudy-gray, the leaves are beautiful. Red, orange, and yellow. No more green left.

 

Summer is gone. It has been for a while.

 

He gets too drunk to even attempt to hit on anyone. Too drunk to even make it back to the car without someone guiding him.

 

Good thing he has Liam.

  
  
  


 

 

**Wednesday, December 13th, 2017 - [93 DAYS AFTER]**

 

 

So three months later and snow is covering the ground. Everything is cold, iced over already. The lake isn’t frozen yet though. That won’t happen until January.

 

Chautauqua isn’t much of a tourist destination in the winter. In fact, winter is the season of the locals. Louis has much less work to do in the marina, but he does have to clean the boats that are stored there and do any repairs in order for them to be up and running again by the time summer hits.

 

It’s lonely work, and requires too much hand-eye coordination and not enough complex thought. It’s no wonder his mind wanders.

 

When his mind wanders, he gets angry. Anger is always the last emotion he settles on after going through the entire array of them, the entire sequence. Like falling back on an old friend. A bitter friend, but a friend nonetheless.

 

Three months later and he still doesn’t understand what the fuck happened. He needs an explanation desperately, but he has yet to receive one. He knows he’ll never get one.

 

The bad thing about work being a lot less busy during the winter is that Louis has a lot more time to think. It also means he has a lot more time to stupidly creep on one specific famous person.

 

He actually ended up watching the live stream of Harry’s first concert, in San Francisco. He had stayed up too late, lying alone in bed and wondering what he was doing to himself, waiting for the concert to start just like the thousands of fans all around the world.

 

In a word, he felt pathetic.

 

As it goes, he felt even worse when the curtain finally dropped and he saw Harry on stage, looking absolutely elated. Happy.

 

Of course he was happy, is the thing. He was doing what he loved, with no stupid pathetic boyfriend back home to tie him down.

 

It hurt more than it should, to see Harry looking so happy, smiling at his fans and dancing around the stage. He felt petty for being upset, but he couldn’t help it. It felt as though it was in his DNA to be bitter about stupid, meaningless things.

 

Of course, the self-loathing really became magnified when a fan tossed a rainbow flag on stage and Harry picked it up, waving it proudly. Because here Harry was, doing something brave and exciting and amazing. And there Louis was, sitting in bed with his laptop on his lap, nursing a beer and whining about that fact that this angel of a person never made an effort to keep in contact with him, even after they had said _I love you_ a million times over.

 

Now it’s midway through December and Louis is determined to avoid any mention of Harry Styles at all costs. It’s more difficult, now that Harry is really making a name for himself with his latest world tour, and even Louis’ aunt is texting him saying _Have you listened to him yet? He’s a hottie ;) Reminded me of you._

 

Yet somehow he manages. Mostly he just doesn’t look at his phone, because he’s inclined to check it every ten seconds just in case he-who-must-not-be-named might’ve decided to finally contact him. It’s impulsive and stupid but Louis can’t shake the urge. So mostly he hides his phone under his pillow and doesn’t use it unless he absolutely needs to.

 

Okay, so they spent one summer together. One summer. Just one. The span of their relationship wasn’t long enough to warrant the heartbreak Louis feels. They may have spent nearly every day together. They may have fallen in love. But it doesn’t matter. None of that should’ve happened.

 

Still, it’s stupid, but he knows he lost something good. Something he should’ve fought harder to keep.

  
  
  


 

 

**Tuesday, April 17th, 2018 - [220 DAYS AFTER]**

 

 

The holidays come and go, lacking the merriness they usually carry. It may or may not have something to do with the fact that Louis is very seriously considering he may be clinically depressed.

 

He should talk to someone. A therapist or even a friend. He knows he should reach out to someone, but the only person he really wants to talk to hasn’t said a word to him in two hundred twenty days.

 

Liam is there, but he’s busy being in love with Zayn. Despite the fact that Louis has lived here all his life, he feels as though he doesn’t have any other friends. Obviously that isn’t true, but it feels like it, when no one makes an effort to talk to him anymore.

 

This sad fact lends its hand in the phenomenon of Louis isolating himself. It isn’t a conscious effort but it ends up being something that he does successfully. By the end of winter the only people he talks to outside of work are Liam and Zayn.

 

They’re good friends, though. They understand Louis is going through a hard time and they try to include him in every way they can. It’s difficult during winter, since there’s much less to do, but the three of them go snowmobiling together and Louis couldn’t ask for more.

 

Spring is more than welcome by the time it finally comes. They’ve been having a lot of undesirable weather lately, so the rain fits in, but the fact that it’s warmer out now just makes everything better. The lake thaws slowly, but it’s still too cold to put the docks in. Louis will have to be patient and wait. Two things he isn’t very good at, especially when he feels as antsy as he does right now.

 

He’s over it. Or so he tells himself. Thoughts of Harry that used to plague him daily are now few and far between. Now, he mostly just feels this sad sense of nostalgia. This depressing desire to go back in time and relive last summer all over again.

 

It’s just. He feels this emptiness, like something is missing. Like another part of him is missing. And like, obviously not, because he’s all here and in one piece. But that’s what it feels like.

 

It’s sickeningly cliche. It’s horrifically stupid. Yet he can’t help it.

 

“I’m a whole person!” Louis screams at the rolling hills of farmland one day, scaring away a few cows, because no one else will listen.

 

“I don’t deserve to feel like only part of a person!” He yells at the sky, because the trees are ignoring him.

 

As it turns out, the sky ignores him too.

 

Louis is quite familiar with it. That ugly feeling of being invisible.

  
  
  


 

 

**Saturday, May 6th, 2018 - [239 DAYS AFTER]**

 

 

Louis is lying out on the grass between the house and the lake, stark naked and soaking up the sun. Tanning his bum. This summer is all about no tan lines, he has decided.

 

A few weeks ago he went through this strange period of time where he decided to finally stop wallowing and instead start loving himself. It may have had something to do with the fact that he was losing his mind, screaming at the trees and the cows and the sky, none of which graced him with a response or even listened in the first place.

 

So he got a little pissed off again, thinking of course he isn’t good enough for an international sensation like Harry Styles. Harry Styles who acts in movies with handsome men and hangs out with pretty models in his free time. Harry Styles who doesn’t even compose one text after promising to call. Harry stupid fucking coward Styles.

 

Right. The irrational anger fades after a little while, and that’s when Louis decides to just fuck it all and love himself instead. So he does a three day fruit juice cleanse that lands him on the toilet too many times, but by the end of it his insides feel brand new. He guesses that’s the point of it all.

 

After the fruit juice cleanse he begins running again, since his minor depression has withheld him from garnering the motivation to workout. He avoids the road where he first saw Harry and instead opts for a different route. Twelve miles in the hot springtime sun, and he’s so worn out by the time he gets back home, he falls asleep in the shower and hits his head on the tile wall, hard enough to leave an ugly bump on his skull. Luckily, his hair covers it.

 

After that, he really pulls himself together. He gets back into his work and starts actually interacting with customers, who must notice a difference in his demeanor but are too polite to comment on it. He starts dressing better, in the clothes he used to wear before all of this shit happened. No more baggy sweats to turn him into a blob of depression. The day he brings out his favorite skinny jeans again, Liam claps him on the back and proclaims loudly to the otherwise empty house that _Louis Tomlinson is back!_

 

The only slipup happens when he’s digging through his closet for something to wear, and he ends up pulling out that god forsaken Randy’s Donuts hoodie. As soon as he sees what it is, he stuffs it to the very back corner of his closet and decidedly doesn’t think about it. If he knew where Harry is right now, he would mail it to him. Fortunately, he doesn’t.

 

The few weeks of self care have really paid off. Louis is glowing now, whether it’s from all the moisturizing he’s been doing, or the face masks, or the green smoothies, or the fact that he’s been getting at least eight hours of sleep every night. He feels a lot better too, happier now, and much less like he’s going to either collapse or explode at any given moment.

 

So he’s lying naked in the grass to tan his bum, and the late spring sun feels amazing on his bare skin especially after a winter so cold. He had missed this so much, being outside so freely. He vows to enjoy it every nice weather day from now on.

 

He goes back inside when the clouds get thicker and begin to cover the sun. He can’t remember if there’s supposed to be a storm or not so he checks the weather channel on TV to get a quick glance at the radar. Immediately, if the blob of green covering the entirety of western New York is any indication, it’s affirmed that a storm is coming.

 

Louis heads outside quickly and runs to the boat to get it covered before it starts raining. Putting the cover back on is arduous work because it stretches pretty tightly over the frame and he has to snap all the metal buttons back in place, hurting his fingers. He manages, but it isn’t particularly enjoyable work. By the time he runs back inside, it’s drizzling.

 

He sighs at the relief of just barely missing the rain, and checks his phone. He has a message from Liam saying he’s spending the night at Zayn’s, which has been occuring more often lately.

 

Louis doesn’t mind though, at least not like he did during last fall and winter, when he felt so lonely he was withering with it. Now he thinks of the alone time more as an opportunity to relax and take care of himself a bit. So he draws a bath and uses some of the oils his mum got him for his birthday to make the water smell nice, like lavender and rose.

 

By the time the tub is full, the rain is already pouring outside, the clouds completely letting loose. The droplets pound against the window in a harsh but beautiful melody, and it makes Louis feel so warm and cozy inside his home, dry from the storm.

 

He sinks into the tub just as a boom of thunder shakes the house. The thunder is a bit less relaxing, because when there’s thunder there’s lightning, and when there’s lightning there’s the chance of trees falling down on the house. It’s one of those semi-rational worries that plague Louis.

 

However, even with the stormy weather, his bath is a huge stress reliever.

 

Well, it is, at least, until the doorbell rings.

 

Louis’ first reaction is fear, because who would be ringing his doorbell right now? And in a thunderstorm, no less. No one ever rings his doorbell. So he deduces the person at his door to be a murderer.

 

His second thought is that it’s probably Liam having forgotten his key, coming home early from his night with Zayn because they’ve had a row or something. Sometimes Liam forgets his key, so it’s not too implausible.

 

The second thought is what gives himself the motivation to pull himself out of the tub, towel off, and wrap himself in his favorite dressing gown. It’s gorgeous silk, navy blue with burgundy trim, and little gold flowers stitched in some areas. Another birthday gift from his mother, one he thought he would never use. It turns out he uses it more than he ever would have imagined.

 

He ties it loosely and then heads downstairs, still feeling too relaxed to be irate with Liam for forgetting his key.

 

Louis doesn’t look outside before he opens the door. He should, especially considering the fact that just a minute ago he thought the person at the door was a murderer, but he doesn’t.

 

So the door swings open. And Louis comes face to face with the very asshole who has been successfully tearing Louis’ entire existence apart for the past two hundred thirty-nine days.

 

He looks awful. Absolutely, positively awful.

 

It isn’t just because of the rain, though he’s drenched in it. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans, and he’s soaked to the bone, fabric clinging to him uncomfortably. His hair is sopping wet and flopping down onto his forehead, dripping raindrops into his eyes.

 

His eyes. Louis has to look away. They’re green as always, but duller, either from the poor lighting of the thunderstorm, or just because he’s exhausted.

 

He really does look exhausted, and it’s not just those tired eyes, though they do play a large part in his disheveled appearance. No, it’s the bags beneath those tired eyes too. His sallow, wintry skin. How he’s shaking, trembling in the cold. The way his shoulders are slouched and he’s curled in on himself, almost as if he’s afraid to take up space.

 

Louis is holding his breath in shock, he realizes belatedly. He lets it out with one long sigh, grasping the door frame between his fingers. All previous relaxation he felt as a result of his bath is long gone. All the feelings he hasn’t felt for a long, long while are back, taking relaxation’s place.

 

It’s a tidal wave of emotions, too. Confusion, fear, anxiety, dread, longing, nostalgia, hurt, love. Among others.

 

But, through all of this, Louis doesn’t even hesitate. He grasps Harry by the front of his sopping t-shirt and tugs him inside, out of the rain.

 

“What the fuck?” He says quite loudly, slamming the door shut. The sound resonates through the house, punctuated by another flash of lightning and boom of thunder. The lightning and thunder are much closer together, meaning the storm is much nearer.

 

Louis asks _what the fuck?_ because it encompasses about a million different questions he could ask right now. For example, _what the fuck, Harry fucking Styles, why the fuck are you on my fucking doorstep, standing in the fucking rain?_ Also, _what the fuck did you think coming here would accomplish after you already ran off and broke every single promise you ever made to me?_

 

Harry doesn’t say anything. He’s very good at not saying anything. So good, in fact, he managed to completely not even mention the fact that he was famous for about two months of sucking Louis’ face. Also, he managed to completely not say a word about his departure from Chautauqua at the end of summer. The departure that marked the beginning of Louis’ spiral into despair. Right.

 

So, before Louis starts screaming at him, he looks a little closer, and finds that Harry is crying. Sobbing, actually. Louis hadn’t seen the tears at first because they had been drowned out by the rain.

 

The question _what the fuck did you think you were doing when you decided to ruin my life?_ quickly morphs into what he actually says out loud: “What the fuck, are you okay?”

 

Harry sniffles, pawing at his eyes like that’ll get him to stop crying. It doesn’t work. “I’m sorry,” He says, very quietly, barely heard over the crashing of rain against the wall of windows. “I’m so sorry. I fucked up and now I don’t know what to do.”

 

The thing to know about Louis is that he’s a pretty compassionate person. When someone is very obviously in pain, he empathizes, and does whatever he can to help them feel better.

 

“It’s okay,” Louis tells him even though he doesn’t know exactly what Harry is apologizing for. There are many reasons for apologies, and Louis wonders which reason motivates Harry. Instead of wondering for too long, though, he rummages through the nearby closet and pulls out a towels, wrapping it around him tightly. He rubs at Harry’s arms in a double effort to comfort him and warm him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” He whimpers, collapsing forward into Louis’ hold. “I fucked up so badly, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

 

“C’mon now H, calm down. It’s okay. No one’s mad at you. It’s fine. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

 

Harry tries to sink down to the floor but Louis manages to hold him up, propping him against the wall. He’s dripping rainwater everywhere but Louis refuses to be preoccupied by the mess right now. The person he loves, even after all these days apart, is upset and distressed and Louis will be damned if he doesn’t try to make him feel better.

 

Even after everything that happened between them, and everything that didn’t. Louis isn’t one to hold grudges and that should be apparent now, in the way he holds Harry close and promises everything will be okay.

 

It takes a while, but Harry eventually calms down enough to be embarrassed by his actions and emotions. Louis takes his embarrassment as a sign that he’s mostly over his mental breakdown. He waits patiently for Harry to calm down enough to speak.

 

When it becomes obvious he isn’t going to say anything first, Louis sighs. Some things never change, right? He strokes his fingers through Harry’s dripping curls and asks the question that’s been on his mind since he opened the door. “What are you doing here, Harry?”

 

“I just- I needed to see you,” He gasps, covering his face in his hands.

 

Louis frowns at him, still carding his fingers through Harry’s hair. “You know there’s such things and phones, right? Like you literally could’ve called me at any time and we could’ve talked like you promised we would.”

 

“I’m sorry- I couldn’t-”

 

“It’s fine, H. Just, pull yourself together and we’ll talk in the morning, yeah? I don’t want to do this now. You interrupted my bath.”

 

“Fuck, I’m sorry-”

 

“Stop. You look exhausted, love. I’ll show you the shower. Just… you can stay until morning right? You don’t have to leave right away?

 

Harry nods numbly, not meeting Louis’ eyes. “Yeah, I have two weeks off.”

 

Louis nods in return and starts dragging Harry upstairs to the bathroom. He pulls the plug to let the water drain and silently mourns the premature end of his bath. He has no idea what to make of Harry coming back. All it has done is confuse him more. He doesn’t understand why Harry is here right now, at all. But Harry isn’t in the right state of mind to have the conversation they desperately need to have, so it’ll have to wait until morning.

 

Once he’s sure Harry is okay, he gets dressed in his pajamas, hanging his dressing gown on the hook on the back of the door. He sighs, debating what he should do, if he should wait up for Harry or just go to sleep.

 

In the end, his exhaustion wins out, and he falls asleep without meaning to.

 

What he doesn’t expect is for Harry to crawl into his bed an hour later, waking him on accident.

 

Louis props himself up on his elbow, squinting in the darkness. It’s nearly pitch black because of the clouds, with no moonlight or starlight to illuminate the room. Yet a flash of lightning irradiates the room in silver luminescence long enough for Louis to see that Harry is crying.

 

_We’ll talk in the morning_ , he keeps telling himself, even as he reaches out to grasp Harry and pull him into his chest.

 

There may be a bit of selfish motivation behind the act, since Louis has really missed the feeling of their hearts beating together. They fall asleep together to that drumbeat lullaby.

  
  
  


 

 

**Sunday, May 7th, 2018 - [240 DAYS AFTER]**

 

 

By the time Louis wakes up the next morning, Harry has already made coffee and breakfast and is bringing it up to the bedroom on a tray he found in the cupboard.

 

“Good morning,” He says brightly, setting the tray on the nightstand but handing Louis his coffee.

 

“Good morning. Everything alright?”

 

“Yeah, we just. Need to talk.”

 

Louis can’t help it when he says, “Right. I’m glad you finally see that.”

 

“Right.” Harry sighs. “I don’t know where to start.”

 

“How about at the part where you promised me we would try long-distance, and then you literally never called me?”

 

His gaze is on the wooden floorboards, nowhere else. Louis wonders if he’s remembering the time Louis fucked him there, on the floor, because they couldn’t make it a few feet over to the bed.

 

“You never called me either.”

 

“You made it pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with me after you left.”

 

“I didn’t-”

 

“You did. And just so you know, I’m pretty fucking pissed about that. For the record.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“So what’s your explanation, then, Harry? Why did you go all cold and quiet and refuse say a word about the fact that you were leaving? Even when I was begging you to say _something_.”

 

“I just- I don’t know…”

 

Louis sets his coffee down on the nightstand, too hot to drink yet, and folds his arms over his chest. “I’m not letting you walk all over me again. Either tell me what happened, or get the fuck out of my house. You don’t get to have both, anymore. You don’t get to enjoy my presence but still not say a word to me. So, why? What’s your explanation?”

 

“I was… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

 

“Bullshit. That’s a bullshit excuse, and you know it. Stop being stupid. If you didn’t want to hurt me, you wouldn’t have ignored me every time I tried to talk about our future. If you didn’t want to hurt me you would’ve fucking texted me more than the word _here_.”

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? I was afraid. I’m not- I’ve never done this before, I’m not good at this.”

 

“Clearly,” Louis remarks, voice softer than before. He feels bad. Nothing Harry did was really justified, but he still feels bad. “Look, Harry, I get it. I do. I understand that you were afraid and you thought it would be better just to leave it be, because we both knew it would hurt if we tried to keep something up even while you were away. But you hurt me. _You_ hurt me. Not the distance or the stress or any of it. _You_ hurt me, by ignoring everything, pretending it was all okay, and then not even fucking calling me once.”

 

Harry opens his mouth to speak but Louis cuts him off by holding his hand up in the air. It’s still raining, even now, and the drops hit the windows when the rain blows them sideways. The sound is melodic, calming. Subduing.

 

“Listen, okay. It’s one thing if you do all that shit and just leave and I never see you again. But when it’s however many months later and you show up at my house randomly one night _crying_ , you’re either using me again or you’re apologizing. So which one is it?”

 

“I’m apologizing,” Harry says, very quietly, now staring at the bedsheets, fiddling his hands in his lap. “For being weird towards the end of summer, for leaving without a proper goodbye, for not calling you. For hurting you. I’m sorry.”

 

Louis waits a long while, giving him the space he needs to continue.

 

He does, albeit quietly, playing with a loose thread on the quilt. “I just. I was afraid we would try it and things would be good for a few months, but then you would just leave me. Just stop calling me one day and that would be that. It’s… It has happened before. Not just once, but. A lot. I’ve, um. I don’t date much, because, well. With much career it’s demanding. But, um. Well, there have been three people, and they’ve all- They’ve all left, so.”

 

Louis pulls Harry’s hand away from the thread and interlaces their fingers. “I get it. You were afraid. But you have to see where you went wrong, right? I mean, you never even gave me a chance. Of course it isn’t going to work when you end it before it even starts.”

 

“Yeah, I mean. I’ve known that. It’s just- I don’t know. It’s so hard for me to explain. But I’m sorry. In general. Just sorry.”

 

_It isn’t enough_ , Louis doesn’t stay. _You just being here and apologizing isn’t enough._ Instead, he sighs. “So why are you back here, then? Was it just a moment of weakness sort of thing, or do you really want to be back here?”

 

“No, I really want to be here. I wanted to apologize, obviously, for everything. But also I just really missed you.”

 

“Okay. So um, also, you have to make it clear what you want from this. Like, why did you come here? More than just to apologize.”

 

“I’m, uh, asking for a second chance. I know I really have no right to ask for that, and I know you’re pissed at me and probably hate me, but I want a do-over. So if you… If you think that’s something you might want too… But if not I get it. I understand.”

 

Louis looks down at their entwined fingers, considering. “I’ve always wanted a relationship with you, I think that’s clear. And you’re right, I’m really pissed right now, but I don’t hate you. Like I said, I understand, but that doesn’t make what you did right. So if you really wanna… If you really want us to be together, you’ll have to prove it to me. Because I don’t trust you right now. You broke your promise to me and I don’t trust you anymore. But it’s not- Trust is something that changes. It’s not something that’s broken forever and can’t be fixed. You just need to prove it to me.”

 

“Okay. What do I have to do?”

 

“Well, communication is the first thing. See how well this is working out right now? If only we had done this in July.” Louis grins at him. “But mainly, you need to prove that you’re capable of being an adult and calling me every once in a while when you’re away. And you said you’re only here for two weeks, right? When you leave, that’s the perfect time to try this out.”

 

Harry nods, looking a bit dazed. “Alright.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah. What about until then?”

 

“Ummm, I’m not really sure. This is all kind of- unexpected, I guess. You know, I hadn’t thought you would show up at my door last night, so. How about I text you later? So I can have a chance to think about it?”

 

Harry lets out a big breath, obviously relieved. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Sorry for just, like, barging in here. I just really missed you.”

 

“It’s okay, H. Thanks for making breakfast. We should eat now before it gets too cold.”

 

They do, in relative silence aside from general small talk and questions about what they’ve been up to the past few months. Louis asks a lot about tour and Harry lights up excitedly, relaying a few stories, looking so happy from it all.

 

Happy Harry means happy Louis. Apparently their emotions are still tied, even months later. It feels as though Harry never left. He isn’t sure if that’s good or bad.

  
  
  


 

 

**Monday, May 28th, 2018 - [255 DAYS AFTER]**

 

 

From Harold <3 at 11:58 PM: _Just got in. can u facetime now ? xx_

 

Louis smiles at his phone, unable to help it, and doesn’t delay in calling Harry.

 

The thing is, the past two weeks have been kind of heavenly. Once they got over the initial awkwardness, at least, and finally talked through everything that has been plaguing them since the first day they met. The talking was the best part, because they finally had the conversations they so desperately needed to have.

 

Louis was hesitant, especially during the first few days. And afraid. And pissed off. Why should he trust Harry again? Who would trust someone who so glaringly betrayed them once before?

 

Right, so they still have quite a bit of work to do, and it will definitely take some time. But the thing is, they have time. Now that there’s no end-of-summer expiration date on their relationship, they’re both much less eager to rush through things. They have time, even if they won’t be physically together through the entirety of it.

 

Harry is in LA right now, about to start filming a new movie. It’s a romantic comedy. They’re both quite excited about it.

 

Unfortunately, filming a movie means Harry won’t have any free time until the end of August. There are some benefits to this, though, as it gives them some time to try this whole long-distance relationship before they really commit to anything.

 

The good thing is that the day Harry is scheduled to return to New York is also the day of the Gerry Township 74th Annual Rodeo. It’s something silly and weird that Louis, Liam, and Zayn go to every year, and this year they’re excited to have Niall and Harry join them as well. Louis is already laughing at the thought of Harry wearing a cowboy hat and boots.

 

“You should come visit me,” Harry is saying, smiling wide so Louis can see how excited he is even through the screen of his phone.

 

Louis relaxes back into bed, lying on his side and propping his phone up on one of the extra pillows. He has Harry’s rainbow bear cuddled to his chest, with the blankets wrapped around him tightly. It may be the beginning of summer, but with the air conditioning on he’s quite cold.

 

“Oh, should I?”

 

“Mhm. I wanna introduce you to all of my famous friends.”

 

“Does this or does this not include Fionn Whitehead?”

 

Harry rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing too. “He’s in London right now. But yeah, I’ll introduce you to him too, if you want.”

 

“Hm.” Louis pretends to think about it. “Okay.”

  
  
  


 

 

**Friday, August 31st, 2018 - [350 DAYS AFTER]**

 

 

He can’t help it. The minute he sees him, he runs into his arms, effectively tackling him to the grass.

 

“Fuck,” Harry groans, resituating the cowboy hat back on his head, but he’s laughing too.

 

“I missed you,” Louis sighs, kissing him hard on the face.

 

They haven’t seen each other in person since the beginning of July when Louis visited Harry in LA and met some of his famous friends as promised. The vacation was nice, especially the days he got to watch Harry film, and he really did enjoy the beach. Still, it’s nice to be back in New York, where the people are more humble and the traffic is a million times better.

 

He and Harry have really done wonders with their relationship. Though there’s often a great physical distance between them, they’ve never felt closer. Harry is really good at calling often, and they’ve worked out a schedule of when to call since they’re in different time zones. Louis knows he’s truly making an effort because he’s afraid to mess up again.

 

Still, they haven’t been able to touch each other in almost two months, so Louis thinks the way he’s mauling Harry right now is fully warranted and justified.

 

Making up after a breakup, especially as divisive and strange as the one they went through, isn’t easy. It requires a lot of communication, which is exactly what Louis has been screaming about for eons. The thing is that sometimes Harry gets so in his head, he doesn’t even think to say what he’s feeling out loud. Louis is always there to coax it out of him, to get him to speak what he’s feeling.

 

In retrospect, Louis is secretly glad they fought when they did, reaching conflict so early in their relationship. Thus far, it has allowed them to work it out, through time and conversation. If it happened any later, it would’ve been a million times worse. Way more painful.

 

They’re stronger now, is the thing. Both together and alone, they’re smarter now too. They’ve learned so much about each other, after spending all summer talking and doing not much else. One thing about long distance is that the only way they can really be together is by talking on the phone. It’s a nice change of pace compared to last summer, when they rarely talked about anything important and instead spent their time being together physically.

 

Now, they feel a lot more ready to have a real relationship. Louis is done taking bullshit from anyone, so he isn’t going to let Harry do what he did last time and pull away from him completely. Not that he would, but if he tries, Louis isn’t going to let it happen.

 

After Harry showed up that rainy day in May, the spent two weeks hashing out whatever conflicts they had failed to address during the first three months of their pseudo-relationship. There was a bit of yelling, but nothing too bad, and whatever arguments they had always ended in a makeout session which may or may not be a healthy coping mechanism, but it seemed to work for them. Besides, they never kissed until they fully made up. Louis is dead set on letting nothing go unsaid.

 

Tonight, the sun is setting as they drive the forty minutes to get to the Gerry Rodeo. According to the signs, it’s the largest rodeo on this side of the Mississippi.

 

Louis is wearing jean shorts that may or may not be too short, matched with the pair of authentic boots he’s been wearing for years, and black cowboy hat. When he steps out of the car and saunters through the dirt parking lot over to Harry, he knows he looks good.

 

Harry looks good, too. Better than anyone ever could’ve imagined, actually, wearing ripped skinny jeans tucked into boots, an off-white blouse that ripples with the wind and is unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a cowboy hat. He looks proper authentic, only partly ridiculous, and insanely hot.

 

“You guys do this every year?” Harry asks, still a little weary about the whole ‘rodeo’ thing.

 

Louis laughs, dragging Harry past the stalls full of merchandise and carnival food. “Yeah, we do. It’s tradition. Been coming here since I was a kid.”

 

Harry ends up loving it, actually, once he saw how well the animals were treated, and that it was more about admiring the bulls and horses than conquering them. His favorite part, of course, is during the intermission when they invite all the little kids down to the field to find the red ribbon around one of the baby calf’s necks. The toddlers stumble around in the dirt and fail to locate the ribbon, but it’s cute.

 

By the end of the night, Harry is leaning into Louis and beaming brighter than the sun.

 

When they get back to the house, it’s nearly midnight. Louis is heading inside, ready to shower and collapse into bed. He’s ready to spend the weekend with Harry, and he’s quite excited.

 

They’re almost inside when he feels a tug on his hand. Louis turns around curiously and sees Harry nodding towards the docks. He follows him down the grass towards them, and only when they reach the very end of the dock, a foot from the edge, do they stop.

 

“I have something to ask you,” Harry says.

 

Louis should feel anxious or nervous or something, but nowadays when he looks at Harry he feels that old familiar warmth spreading through him, calming him.

 

Last month he told his sister about everything and she called it young love, true love. And it makes sense. Why shouldn’t you feel a sense of peaceful tranquility when you’re looking into the eyes of the person you love?

 

“What is it, baby?”

 

He gets down on one knee. Louis isn’t crazy enough to think he’s proposing, but that’s what it feels like. His breath catches in his throat and he stares down at Harry with wide, surprised eyes.

 

Harry pulls out a ring.

 

“What is that?” Louis gasps, mouth open in shock, knees feeling slightly weak. The current situation is looking more and more like a proposal.

 

Harry grins up at him, but he looks a little nervous, his eyes carefully watching Louis. He’s still wearing the goddamn cowboy hat, but he resituates it so it’s not blocking his line of sight. “Umm, well. I really like you, a lot.”

 

Louis nods slowly, gnawing on his thumbnail. Despite Harry’s slightly anxious demeanor, Louis feels calm just to be in his presence, and hopeful. “Right. I like you too.”

 

The simple affirmation makes Harry’s smile soften. He twirls the silver ring in his hand, observing it for a second before looking back up. He’s illuminated in moonlight, and with the stars dotting the sky above him, the sight of him is breathtaking.

 

“So I like you a lot, and we’ve come along way, you and I. We’ve had some rough times, but we’ve overcome them, and I think that just goes to show how strong we are together. How strong you make me. Louis Tomlinson-”

 

“Harry…”

 

He holds up his hand, shaking his head. “Wait. Listen, okay?” He doesn’t continue again until Louis shuts his mouth and nods. “Every day I wake up and my first thought is always you. And when I see you next to me I feel so happy, I can’t even explain it. When we’re apart I miss you more than anything. I’ve been counting the days since I first left and it’s a habit I can’t break; every time we’re apart I count the days until we’ll be together again.”

 

Harry pauses to take a deep breath. Louis has long since brought his hands to his mouth in silent awe, about thirty seconds away from melting into mush. He wants to say something, but he knows Harry will just shush him again, so with great restraint he refrains.

 

He continues, “When I’m with you I feel whole. I know we’re young and honestly I have no idea what in the fuck I’m doing, I don’t fucking know anything—but if there’s one thing I do know it’s that I love you.”

 

It isn’t a revelation. They’ve been saying _I love you_ to each other ever since that day Harry fell off the boat and Louis thought he had drowned. Yet hearing Harry say it right now, like this, so open and brave and unapologetic, makes Louis ache with affection.

 

“I’m in love with you, Louis Tomlinson. I want to… I want to promise myself to you, if you’ll have me. This ring is my promise. I want to be your official exclusive boyfriend,” He laughs a little, looking down at the ring in his hands briefly before meeting Louis’ eyes again. “And I want you to be mine. So will you- I’m promising you my forever, if you want it. Will you accept my forever and promise me yours too?”

 

Stunned into silence for a moment, Louis reaches out and pulls the hat off Harry’s head to tangle his fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp in exactly the way Harry likes. Harry sighs contentedly, and his eyelashes flutter closed for a moment in pleasure.

 

“Yes,” Louis says finally, dropping the hat to his deck and using both his hands now to pet at Harry’s hair. “Yes, baby, you have my forever.”

 

Harry holds Louis’ wrist and pulls it away from his hair. With a careful grasp, he slips the ring onto Louis’ finger and then leans back to admire it.

 

Louis gives him ten seconds before he yanks Harry up by the collar of his blouse and kisses him hard. They nearly fall into the water, but manage to steady themselves just in time, without ever losing contact between them.

 

“I love you,” Louis tells him when they finally pull away for air, gasping heavily into each other’s faces. “Did you know that?”

 

“I did, actually.”

 

They kiss again, and it turns heated quickly. By the time Harry is rutting his hips against Louis’ tummy, they’ve lost their footing and are tumbling into the water before Louis can stop them.

 

When they resurface, they’re still clinging to each other. Being the responsible one and probably the only one who cares for their wellbeing, Louis keeps a hand anchored on the edge of the wood so they don’t drown. Harry keeps kissing him feverently, like he hadn’t even noticed they had fallen into the lake.

 

The thing is, things haven’t been perfect but lately they’ve been pretty damn close.

 

The thing is, Louis loves Harry and is loved by him in return.

 

The thing is, they have promised each other their forevers, and they’re quite keen on following through.

 

They end up swimming back to shore because neither one of them can heave them back up onto the dock. They end up in the shower together because they need to wash away the smell of seaweed and fish. They end up holding each other through the night, because they love each other more than anything and can’t stand to be apart.

 

Louis knows they still have a lot of work to do, if they want to be the best couple in the world. But they’re damn sure close to the title, and they get closer every day.

 

They have big goals, he and Harry. Big plans and big promises. They’ve mentioned it in passing, a future of marriage and family. A home to themselves. Kids, and lots of them. None of it is unattainable. Everything is possible. Within the reach of their fingertips.

 

So Louis falls asleep that night to that warm familiar feeling of comfort and affection. It’s a feeling that will remind him of this summer and the previous for years to come. He’s certain he’ll never forget that very first night, when they made love beneath the stars in tempo with the sway of the waves. He’ll never forget the feeling of it, the infiniteness and the warmth.

 

He’ll never forget the sunlight scintillating on skin, or the way the sky lights with love.

 

The sun rises, and dawn breaks over the lake.

 

At once, everything is okay.

 

 

 

 

::

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All comments are welcomed and encouraged.
> 
> If you [reblog the fic post on Tumblr](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/172674028279/when-we-find-love-by-angelichl-38k-the-summer-au) there's a 100% chance I love you.


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